Harry Potter - The Sword & the Snake by Barton Fink

Rating: G
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 20/02/2010
Last Updated: 12/03/2010
Status: Completed

It is the summer before 7th year and Harry is still struggling to come to terms with the death
of Albus Dumbledore when he receives some surprising correspondence that leads him to reconsider
much of what he has previously held to be true. A traditional 7th year fic where the trio find aid
from unexpected quarters and where Harry discovers that death may prove to be the greatest weapon
of all in the fight against Voldemort...




1. Departures & Arrivals
------------------------

**Chapter 1 - Arrivals and Departures**

**Wednesday 30th July 1997**

Rufus Scrimgeour leaned back in his office chair and let out a deep sigh. He placed the file he
had been reading back on his desk and rubbed his face with both hands. He had been reading yet
another report from his Aurors on the whereabouts and activities of Lord Voldemort, but this one
had been much like the countless previous reports he had read; a lot of speculation, educated
guesswork and - crucially - very little substance or hard facts.

Rufus looked around his office; although to be fair it wasn't really *his* office. It
was officially the office for The Minister of Magic; he was just the unfortunate soul who happened
to occupy the position at the moment. For about the thousandth time since being appointed to the
post, he wondered how he had ever managed to arrive at the pinnacle of political power in the
British magical world. Despite what many thought, he had never really been interested in holding
high office. He had been appointed head of the Auror Division nearly fifteen years ago. Ostensibly,
he had been rewarded with that position for years of successful loyal service and commitment to the
department. In reality he knew it was because he had gotten too old to chase dark wizards and
witches across the country. The only other serious rival at the time had been Mad-Eye Moody and his
well known idiosyncrasies were always going to rule him out. He was seen at the time as a safe, if
dull, appointment, but his administration of the role had proven to be very successful with the
Auror Division hunting down the remnants of Voldemort's supporters after the first war. This
success, coupled with the sudden fall from grace of Cornelius Fudge, had led to his appointment
last year and at times like this he wished he was still a young rookie on stakeout at the hideout
of some suspected dark witch or wizard. *Those were happy days*, he told himself, although
rationally he knew that nostalgia had the convenient habit of omitting all the times he was cold or
uncomfortable or scared out of his wits. Then there were those who had not been as lucky as he.
Rufus had seen more than a few Aurors fall to dark spells and - when not lost in selective memory -
was well aware that he was better off where he was, despite the pressures of the role.

*I'm getting old*, he thought to himself. He found himself reflecting more and more on
the past these days and didn't know if this was because of the pressures of his current job or
whether it was because he was becoming more aware of the passing of time.

He knew that he was probably not the first choice of most people to be Minister; more likely
that he was the only choice. Indeed, most people's first choice had been murdered a few short
weeks ago and the magical community was still trying to come to terms with the death of Albus
Dumbledore. But Dumbledore had emphatically rejected time and again any overtures to take the
position. The old man had seemingly been content with teaching at Hogwarts and making his influence
felt behind the scenes in the Wizengamot. Whilst Rufus had not always seen eye to eye with the old
headmaster, he had respected and admired the man and had - before his appointment to office had
brought them into dispute - considered him a friend. Dumbledore had undoubtedly been a wizard of
uncommon power and integrity and his absence would be felt keenly in the coming struggle.

Thinking of Dumbledore led Rufus to open his desk drawer and remove a letter that he had read
and re-read in the past few weeks. It had arrived on his desk two days after Dumbledore's
funeral and he had been shocked to discover that it had been written by the old man himself.
Settling back in his chair again, Rufus scanned the now familiar sloping handwriting and read it
once more, although he almost knew the contents by heart now.

*My Dear Rufus,*

*If you are reading this then I am unfortunately no longer here to assist you in the struggle
that lies ahead. You may be surprised to read these words; after all, we have had many disputes
since your appointment, but I hope that you have never doubted my commitment to rid ourselves of
the cancer that is Tom Riddle, or that I ever wished you personal ill. My dispute was always with
your methods, not your intentions which, I know, stem from the noblest of motives.*

*However, I must implore you to keep in mind that which I have tried to instil in every
student that has come under my care. Do you remember, Rufus? I taught you myself all those years
ago and I hope that you have the same fond memories of those days as I do. I have always stressed
the importance of doing what is right as opposed to what is easy and I am well aware that it is
crucial that you choose the right path not just for the Ministry, but for society as a whole.
Remember also that it is our choices that define us, not our abilities.*

*I do not envy you. Only a fool would envy the position you now find yourself in. You lead the
Ministry in its greatest struggle and you must prove equal to the pressures you will find yourself
facing. I can only hope that these pressures do not prove too much for you. Remember, help will be
always be there for those that require it.*

*On that note, I have a last request to make of you, although I know I have no right to such a
thing. Despite this, I implore you to help Harry in any way you can with anything he asks of you.
You may wonder why I put so much faith in a boy, but I can assure you that this faith is justified.
I cannot go into details, but Harry is our best and only hope of defeating Voldemort and you must
help him. Unfortunately, he is not particularly well disposed towards the Ministry at the moment
and I cannot in good conscience blame him. The Ministry has tried many times to manipulate him for
its own ends, and when that failed, has made life very difficult for him. You must overcome this
antipathy and earn the trust of the boy, for unless we are all united, we are doomed to
fail.*

*I leave you with my fondest regards and my very best wishes for the future.*

*You must not fail.*

*Your friend (I hope) and teacher,*

*Albus*

He had been surprised to receive such correspondence from the old man and it had given him much
food for thought. He had often wondered why Dumbledore had been so insistent about the importance
of Harry Potter in the fight against Voldemort. Rufus was no fool; he was well aware that the
public held Potter in high esteem after the events that led to the Dark Lord’s demise 16 years ago,
and he himself had tried to bind the boy to the Ministry cause, but this was more because he
appreciated the propaganda benefits of having him onside. Apart from that, he only saw him as a
typical underage wizard. Admittedly a talented one, if the reports were true; but a boy
nonetheless. He failed to see how Potter could be the key to defeating Voldemort.

But then Dumbledore hadn’t been a fool either and he obviously had seen something in the boy
that Rufus himself had missed. They had argued a great deal since Rufus had become Minister;
something that Albus had alluded to in his letter, and something he now regretted. The source of
the arguments had inevitably been the methods Rufus was trying to employ to combat Voldemort. Only
recently he had brought in emergency powers that gave him almost absolute authority in magical
Britain. The Ministry now had the right to hold suspects without trial; to censor the media and
even to execute Death Eaters in extreme cases. That last power had taken all of his political guile
to achieve in the face of strong opposition and he suspected that he would not have carried it had
Dumbledore still been alive.

He had utilised a very old law to obtain this power. It had been pointed out to him by an
advisor that Treason against the Crown was still a capital offence in Britain.* He had reasoned
that as he was a Minister of the Crown, any act of subversion against Her Majesty’s Minister or
Ministry could be deemed as an act of treason against the Crown itself and so could be punished to
the full extent of the law. Rather tenuous grounds for enforcing the death penalty, he knew, but it
had been enough to force the legislation through. He had even ordered the execution of a number of
known Death Eaters. When that news had broken it had made him deeply unpopular with a lot of
witches and wizards, but others fully approved of his actions. Besides, he had never bothered about
popularity – only results.

At least up until now anyway.

Rufus had once read the works of the Muggle philosopher Aristotle and had been very much struck
by a sentiment expressed. ‘The wise man cares more for the truth than for what people think.’ Since
reading this he had always tried to do his job in accordance with this conviction. His ultimate
goal was the salvation of his civilisation so he had always acted according to what he deemed was
best for society as a whole; not what was best for particular individuals or interest groups. He
had not let personal feelings come before what needed to be done, and had not cared a whit about
what others thought of him. This was until he had received another letter; a letter that had made
him examine his own conscience in ways he’d never had to do before.

Placing his hand in his inside pocket, he retrieved the missive he had received only a few short
days ago. Settling back once again, he began to read.

*My Darling,*

*I hope you will forgive me if I tell you something that I feel you ought to know. One of the
men in your entourage (a devoted friend) has been to me and told me that there is a danger of your
being generally disliked by your colleagues and subordinates because of your rough, sarcastic &
overbearing manner. It seems your Private Secretaries have agreed to behave like school boys and
'take what's coming to them' and then escape out of your presence shrugging their
shoulders. Higher up if an idea is suggested (say at a conference) you are supposed to be so
contemptuous that presently no ideas, good or bad, will be forthcoming. I was astonished and upset
because in all these years I have been accustomed to all those who have worked with and under you,
loving you. I said this and I was told, 'No doubt it's the strain'.*

*My Darling, I must confess that I have noticed a deterioration in your manner; and you are
not so kind as you used to be.*

*It is for you to give the orders and if they are bungled - except for the Queen, and the
Headmaster of Hogwarts - you can sack anyone and everyone. Therefore with this terrific power you
must combine urbanity, kindness and if possible Olympic calm. I cannot bear that those who serve
the Country and yourself should not love as well as admire and respect you - besides you won't
get the best results by irascibility and rudeness. This will breed a slave mentality, something we
are supposed to be fighting.*

*Please forgive your loving devoted and watchful*

Jane**

This letter had shaken him to the core. It was one thing to ignore the opinions of the ordinary
man in the street – someone he neither knew nor particulary cared about on an individual basis (he
did care about others in a more general sense, of course). But this was the opinion of his wife;
someone he loved with all his heart, and someone whose opinion of him mattered a great deal. He had
not been able to speak to her about it yet, for he had spent most of the time since first reading
the letter examining his own behaviour and actions. He had been disturbed to have found himself
wanting.

The thing that Rufus feared above all others was not the ultimate victory of Voldemort. What
terrified him more was the prospect of becoming exactly what he was trying to defeat. He had heard
the maxim that ‘power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ and was now belatedly
becoming aware that it could be applied to himself. He had been forced to ask himself a very
awkward question. Just how far into the dark was he prepared to go in the name of light?

He thought again of Dumbledore. Was this why the old man had always refused the Ministry? Did he
not trust himself with the power? It was a scary thought.

When he had first received Dumbledore’s request to assist Potter, he had dismissed it out of
hand. The boy despised him and had made that plain at their last encounter after the funeral. After
reading the letter from his wife however, and having considered his actions in light of this, Rufus
had come to a rather disturbing conclusion.

He had been a fool. What had he been thinking in approaching Potter immediately after the burial
of his mentor and friend? It had hardly been an appropriate time to try and get Harry to change his
mind about helping the Ministry. He still winced when he thought about it. Bar pissing on the old
man’s grave, he couldn’t think of anything else more disrespectful than what he had done. No wonder
Harry had all but told him to clear off.

It was then that Rufus had realised that his wife may be correct in her assertion. The stress of
the job obviously was getting to him. He was aware that he was not the most sensitive of
individuals, but he had always prided himself on his ability to lead rather than drive; to inspire
rather than cajole. This is what he had done as an Auror; why hadn’t he be doing it as
Minister?

So he had finally come to a decision. He would respect the last request of Albus. He would offer
to help Harry, this time with no strings attached. If the boy refused then at least he could say he
had tried. And if Harry accepted his aid? Then he would help him in any way he could, whether there
was political capital in it or not.

Rufus smiled to himself. He felt more like himself than he had for quite some time. He made a
mental note to send his wife some flowers and then lifted the next batch of reports from his
desk.

**********

Harry Potter lay on his bed with his hands behind his head in his bedroom of Number Four Privet
Drive and stared at the ceiling. He was alone, as usual, but for once he found himself enjoying the
enforced solitude. Since arriving back from Dumbledore’s funeral over four weeks ago the Dursleys
had barely spoken to him, restricting conversation to the requirements of mealtimes and
domesticity. In fact, even the usual list of chores had not been forthcoming this year. It was as
if his aunt and uncle sensed his new mood and acted accordingly. They had received a letter from
Professor McGonagall informing them of the headmaster’s untimely death and whilst Vernon had not
shown the imagination to realise the implications, Petunia had been shaken to the core.

‘He’s dead?’ she had asked him on reading the letter. Her taut features had betrayed her shock
at the news. ‘How?’

Harry had looked at her with a degree of sympathy that had surprised him. He had softened
somewhat towards her over the past year. Perhaps he was mellowing with age. Perhaps he felt sorry
for her sister’s death. Or maybe he just didn’t think them worthy of his contempt anymore. Whatever
the reason, as he looked at the white face of his aunt, he decided to at least be civil to her.

‘He was murdered by one of the other professors. They practically booted us out of the school
after that. Couldn’t get rid of us soon enough.’

‘So what’s going to happen now? Wasn’t Dumbledore the only one Voldemort was afraid of?’

Harry had raised an eyebrow at this. He didn’t know what was more surprising; the fact that his
aunt called Voldemort by name, or the fact that they were openly discussing his world.

‘He was. This is why no one seems to know what to do at the moment. I don’t even know if the
school is going to be opening next term.’ He had paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell
her of his intentions this summer. He had decided to plunge on. ‘Whether the school opens or not, I
will be leaving in a few weeks; leaving for good. The Weasleys have invited me to their son Bill’s
wedding at the beginning of August, and when I leave for that, I will be out of your hair forever.
Should be on or about my birthday I think. You probably know why; I’m sure Dumbledore told you.’ He
had been unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice at this last statement and he thought he
saw his aunt stiffen at his words. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he couldn’t help himself
when it came to his relatives. There were too many bad memories bubbling under the surface.

His aunt had seemingly taken that as her cue to end the discussion and had stalked off into the
living room. They had not spoken about anything of substance since.

That had been nearly a month ago, and the time to leave was now. He glanced at his watch.
Eleven-thirty, and they were picking him up just before midnight. He still didn’t know who his
escort would be as Ron had not been very expansive in the letter he had sent him. Harry had only
received four items of correspondence all summer so he decided to read through them once again in
the hope of gleaning some clue from the vague instructions. Besides, it would help to pass the
time.

He delved into his trunk and removed the letter at the top of the pile. This one was from
Ron.

*Harry,*

*How are you? Hope the Muggles aren’t getting you down too much.*

*Things have been crazy here recently. Mum is going mental with all the preparations for the
wedding – I mean, how much work do these things actually involve? She has had me and Ginny working
our socks off all summer to have the place ‘suitable’ for our guests; whatever that means.*

*And speaking of Ginny, she says Hi. I don’t know exactly what you said to her after the
funeral, but she has been a right misery all summer. Hope you can sort it out.*

*Anyway, the reason I am writing is that Dad says you have to be packed and ready to go for
five minutes to midnight on the thirtieth (that is five minutes before your birthday) as you will
be coming to see us then. So make sure you don’t forget anything.*

*Can’t wait to see you*

*Ron*

And that had been it. No news of what was going on in the wizarding world and no indication that
Voldemort was on the move. Harry figured that no news was probably good news, but as he had no
access to any magical publications the wizarding world could have ended for all he knew. He was
aware that his friends were probably under instructions from the Order to avoid writing anything
down that could compromise them by falling into the hands of the enemy, but it was frustrating for
him nonetheless.

The next letter in the pile, from Ginny, was little better, but at least it was personal, even
if it made him uncomfortable.

*Harry,*

*I have to admit that our conversation after Dumbledore’s funeral has left me a little
confused and, if I am honest, a little angry. I know that you have the best of reasons for breaking
off with me at the moment, but I have decided that these reasons are not good enough. I look around
the Burrow at the moment and see the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding and this makes me
realise that we should seize what we have today because we might not have it tomorrow. Your own
parents got married and had you in the middle of the last war and I think that they should be an
example to us all. Surely we should try and achieve a little happiness where we can?*

*I know you will be leaving the Dursleys soon and I hope we get the chance to discuss this in
person. I hope you realise how much I care for you and that we can make this work, even in these
dangerous times. I want you to know that I am willing to help you in any way that I can.*

*Take care*

*Love*

*Ginny*

Harry stared at this letter thoughtfully for a minute before folding it away again. He wasn’t
sure what to make of it, or even of his feelings for Ginny at the moment. When he had decided to
break with her after the funeral he had felt a sense of disappointment and loss, but it occurred to
him now that those feelings had only proved fleeting. He had hardly thought about her since
arriving at Privet Drive and now he was wondering what exactly it was that he did feel for her?
There was no doubt that he had enjoyed their time together enormously, and he still wondered about
the pangs of jealousy he had felt when she was seeing Dean, but when he reflected on her letter he
realised that she thought more of him than he did of her. Her arguments were sound; in these times
people should seize the moment, but he was beginning to realise that it wasn’t the timing that was
the issue. If he felt anything like an all consuming love and desire for someone then he reckoned
he would make a go of things. It was in his nature; he had acted impulsively throughout his life
and he didn’t think that he would be any different when it came to romance. So the problem wasn’t
the timing. It was Ginny. Or rather, it was he and Ginny.

He loved Ginny – there was no doubt about that – but he suspected that there was more than a
hint of familial love in their relationship, and that was the problem. He needed to talk to his
friends about it, he realised. This could prove awkward with Ron as he had something of a conflict
of interest in the matter, so he would have to wait until he got the chance to speak to
Hermione.

*Hermione.*

The thought of her made him pull out the letter he had received from her only yesterday.
Strangely, it had arrived by normal post rather than with an owl, but he suspected that this was a
security measure. He had been beginning to wonder if they were still such good friends despite her
promise at the funeral to stick with him whatever he decided to do. Having waited almost a month to
hear from her had made him think that she was perhaps trying to put some distance between them.
Last year at school had been trying for everyone, but he still felt a little put out at the way his
friends had seemingly abandoned him and had refused to take his suspicions about Malfoy and Snape
seriously. He felt no sense of vindication that he had been proved right as Dumbledore had died and
that was far too high a price to pay. And then there was the whole ‘Half Blood Prince’ thing.
Hermione had seemed genuinely put out because he received better marks than her in potions thanks
to the book. That had surprised him; Hermione had never struck him as the envious type and he still
could not understand it. He had offered to share the knowledge with her and understood her refusal;
she was a stickler for doing things by the book. But this still did not explain a certain coldness
he felt from her last year. He wondered if she still held him responsible for nearly dying in the
Ministry at the end of their fifth year because of his ‘saving people thing.’

That still hurt him. Above all else, he did not want anyone to get hurt, or even die, because of
him. Did she resent him for leading them to the Ministry? Did she trust him anymore? He knew that
he would not be able to complete the task before him without the help of both Hermione and Ron, but
he also knew that he did not want them placed in any more danger because of him. He had thought a
lot about Ron and Hermione this summer.

He didn’t know if there was anything going on between them. Certainly, their actions last year
seemed totally out of character for both of them. Ron’s brief flirtation with Lavender had been
trying for everyone, but Hermione had seemed to take particular exception to the relationship. He
believed that this might be because Hermione harboured romantic feelings towards Ron, yet they had
not gotten together after Ron’s poisoning and subsequent break up with Lavender. He didn’t know how
he felt about his two best friends becoming involved romantically, fearing that he might become the
third wheel in the group. The idea didn’t seem so bad when he was with Ginny, but the thought of
Ron and Hermione being together gave him a slightly uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that he
couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He didn’t think he had romantic feelings for Hermione. He knew that he certainly needed her
friendship. Indeed, he often thought that she was the rock that grounded him whenever he felt he
was losing control. He may have resented some of her nagging over the years, but he knew that she
acted as his conscience whenever he chose to ignore his own. She was certainly attractive, and
smart, and honest and good; and he certainly had strong feelings towards her, but wasn’t it normal
to feel this way about your best friend? He did know one thing. He missed her; needed to speak to
her and – if he was honest with himself – was looking forward to seeing her more than Ron, or
Ginny, or anyone else for that matter.

He just wished he knew why.

He re-read her letter, seeking answers even though he wasn’t sure of the questions.

*Harry,*

*I hope you are having a good summer and that your relatives are treating you well. I will be
going to the Burrow tomorrow so by the time you get this, I will already be helping with the
wedding preparations. I have had a nice summer, considering all that has happened, and it has been
great to spend some time with my parents.*

*I am sorry that I will not be able to tell you much news in this letter – we have been warned
not to go into too much detail in our correspondence, which is a pity, because there is a lot you
should probably know about. This letter is just to let you know that I am thinking about
you.*

*We will have a lot to talk about, and I have some things I want to say to you, so stay safe
until we see you.*

*Love*

*Hermione*

He still didn’t know what that meant. He had no idea what she wanted to talk to him about, or
what news she felt he should know. The frustration was killing him and it was with a sense of
foreboding that he awaited departure. Her letter seemed to pose more questions than provide answers
and he hoped to get the chance to speak soon.

He glanced at his watch; eleven-forty eight. Only another seven minutes to go before his escort
was due to arrive. He was already packed and, as he looked around the room he had lived in these
past six summers (he certainly wouldn’t call it home,) he discovered that he felt nothing. The
wardrobe was empty, the walls bare. Hedwig’s cage was empty (he had let her make her own way to the
Burrow earlier) and apart from that, there was no evidence that he had lived in this house at
all.

The thought made him shiver slightly. He would soon be gone from here without leaving a trace
and he wondered if that was to be his fate in life. He knew he had achieved a certain degree of
notoriety, but he considered the possibility that if Voldemort succeeded then it might be as if he
had never existed.

He’d had a lot of black thoughts like this over the summer. Objectively he knew it was a
reaction to the death of Dumbledore, but trying to rationalise his dark moods was pointless as the
process did not alleviate his depression. He had been struggling to come to terms with the events
of that night all summer and his mood wasn’t helped by the arrival of a very much unexpected letter
that he had received two days after returning to Privet Drive.

Reaching into his trunk, he removed this letter from the pile.

*Harry,*

*If you are reading this then I know that something unfortunate has occurred and that I am
currently embarking on the next great adventure. This being the case, I would urge you not to mourn
my passing, but rather to continue on in good cheer. I had a long and eventful life and I am
grateful for that blessing. My only regret is that I am not there to assist you in the struggle
against Tom, and it is for that reason that I left this letter with the instruction that it be
delivered to you in the event of my death.*

*First of all, Harry, I want you to continue in your hunt from where we left off. I have
enclosed some odds and ends that I hope will aid you in your quest. These are yours now, and as I
am most definitely unobtainable, there is no question of you returning them to me. Use them
well.*

*Second, it is important that you continue to keep Mr Weasley and Miss Granger in your
confidence. I am aware that you may have certain reservations about involving them in the hunt, but
you must ignore these. They are your friends and you will need them both before the end. I
permitted you to inform them for a reason Harry, and that reason is because I know you cannot do
this alone.*

*On that note, I have one further request to make of you, Harry. I urge you to seek the aid of
the Ministry if you can – in particular, the aid of Rufus. I know you have a low opinion of the
Ministry, with good cause, but I implore you not to cast aside any assistance they may provide. As
to Rufus; whilst he and I didn’t always see eye to eye – especially where you were concerned – I
considered him to be a good man and one who will fight Tom as hard as he can. If he offers you an
olive branch, Harry, I beg you not to throw it back in his face.*

*And finally, Harry, I want to say goodbye. I will not say farewell as I have high hopes that
we will meet again someday, but hopefully not for a long time to come. I also want to thank you,
Harry, for restoring life and hope to an old man. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to
come to know and love you and I have every confidence that you will succeed in the challenge
ahead.*

*Take care*

*Your friend*

*Albus*

Harry put the letter back in the bottom of his trunk with the others, and with the ‘odds and
ends’ that Dumbledore had left him. He hadn’t even looked at what had been left to him, preferring
instead to wait until he was alone with Ron and Hermione. There was also the fact that he was still
angry with the old man and was not in the mood to humour his requests at the moment. All summer he
had been trying to deal with the loss and he knew that he had not yet gotten over the bitterness
that rose in him every time he thought about it. He hoped a change of scenery and some company
would help him to overcome this.

With this in mind, he glanced at his watch again; eleven-fifty four. Time to go.

With that thought he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and headed off down the stairs.

***********

When Harry opened the door of the living room he was surprised to find to find the Dursleys all
seated on the sofa, and all wearing what Petunia would normally describe as their ‘Sunday best.’ In
all honesty he did not know what to expect, but considering that it was nearly midnight, and that
he was finally leaving, a formal departure committee was not what he’d envisaged.

As if reading his thoughts, Vernon snapped, ‘Don’t think this is for your benefit, boy. Your
freakish kind might not know the meaning of the word ‘standards,’ but we have visitors arriving and
we will welcome them properly, regardless of what we think of them.’

He sounded nervous and Harry could hardly blame him. In his previous encounters with the magical
world, Vernon had been stalked by a flock of owls; had his son turned into half a pig (not much of
a change, one could argue); had his living room demolished and had been threatened by a veritable
posse of witches and wizards in the middle of King’s Cross station. Harry almost felt sorry for
him. *Almost.*

It was then that he noticed that there was a large pile of suitcases lying in the corner and
that there was also three jackets placed on top of them. It appeared that the Dursleys were going
somewhere too.

He made to ask them about this, but before he could open his mouth there was a knock at the
front door and he rushed to open it.

‘Wotcher, Harry,’ came the familiar greeting of Tonks as she stepped over the threshold and into
the hallway. He was glad to see that her hair was a very sombre black tonight, and that her
travelling cloak was wrapped neatly about her form. She actually looked respectable and he figured
she had made the effort to minimise the discomfort of the Dursleys as much as possible. He made a
mental note to thank her later.

He made to close the door but was prevented by a foot that had been judiciously placed between
the door and the jam.

‘Potter,’ came the curt greeting, and Harry was startled to see Mad-Eye Moody limp his way into
the house. With his wooden leg, scarred features and magical roving eye he looked like he would
have been more at home on the deck of an eighteenth century pirate ship, rather than in the heart
of English suburbia. With a grimace Harry realised that Tonks’ best efforts had been in vain. She
could have dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West and no one would notice her next to Mad-Eye.

Next after Moody was Kingsley Shacklebolt, who nodded a curt greeting to Harry on his way past.
He was closely followed by one of Harry’s old professors.

‘Moony!’ exclaimed Harry, and broke into what felt like the first genuine smile he had had for
months.

‘Hi, Harry,’ replied Moony, looking serious. ‘Great to see you again, but we don’t have time for
pleasantries at the moment. We are on a tight schedule.’ Harry was starting to feel a bit resentful
about this but was stopped from losing his temper when the older man’s face broke into a grin and
he quickly embraced him.

‘Don’t worry; there will be plenty of time to catch up later. I Promise.’ And with that, he
strode past Harry into the living room.

After checking to see that no one else was trying to enter, Harry closed the door and joined the
others. He noticed that his relatives had stood to ‘welcome’ their visitors, but everyone was
standing around awkwardly as if determined to look as if nothing out of the ordinary was going
on.

‘Right, Potter,’ began Moody without preamble, ‘you know the plan. Kingsley and I will be
leaving with your relatives to take them to the safe house. Tonks will be taking your luggage to
the Burrow…’

‘A delivery girl. That’s all I seem to be these days…’ muttered Tonks in the background.

‘AS I WAS SAYING,’ continued Moody with a severe look in Tonks’ direction, ‘Tonks will be taking
your luggage to the Burrow, and Remus will be Side-Along Apparating you there too. We will need to
do this at the stroke of midnight because by then you will be seventeen and the Ministry won’t be
able to charge you for using underage magic. If we time this right, we will be long gone before
You-Know-Who or any of his Death Eaters get here. The time is now eleven-fifty seven, so you have
just under three minutes to say goodbye, and we are off. Understood?’

‘No.’

Moody, who had been turning to speak to Tonks, suddenly snapped back round to face Harry. His
eye had made the turn first, beating the rest the rest of his head by a fraction. The effect was
slightly disorientating.

‘What do you mean “no”?’ he growled. ‘It’s quite straightforward I would have thought. I just
went through the plan with you.’

‘I mean ‘no’ because I have had virtually no communication from anyone all summer.’ Harry’s
temper was starting to rise now, but he continued. ‘All I received was a vague letter from Ron
telling me to be ready to leave for midnight tonight. I don’t have a clue about anything else.’

‘Oh, the letter,’ replied Moody, shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘I can’t believe we allowed
Arthur’s boy to send you a letter with the time of departure in it. No one seems to care about
security these days.’

‘Come off it, Mad-Eye!’ exploded Tonks, who up until now had seemed quite amused by the old
Auror’s behaviour. ‘I took the owl here myself when I was acting delivery girl again and I didn’t
release it until I was at the end of the garden. I was invisible the whole time and I didn’t see
any Death Eaters spring from the rosebushes to intercept it.’ She folded her arms as if in defiance
of Moody’s criticism.

‘That’s enough!’ shouted Lupin, who glared between Mad-Eye and Tonks as if daring them to
continue. ‘Look, Harry,’ he continued in a softer tone as he turned to his friends’ son, ‘I’ll try
to explain quickly now but you will have to wait until later for details.’ He paused for a moment
as if deciding what to say next.

‘We know that your mother’s protection runs out when you turn seventeen – Albus told us about
that. Now we couldn’t be sure if it expires at the exact hour you are seventeen so we decided not
to take any chances and get you out at midnight on the thirty first. There have been some big
changes at the Ministry recently so we could not risk you facing a charge of underage magic. That’s
why we haven’t attempted this before now. Your relatives have to leave as well because once the
protection is lifted they will be at the mercy of Voldemort. We cannot risk leaving them as they
would probably be tortured in order to reveal your whereabouts.’

‘Torture?’ Vernon exploded. ‘No one said anything about torture. What is the meaning of this? I
have had just about enough of you people ruining our lives. If…’

‘That will do.’ It was spoken calmly, but with the deep authority Kingsley could bring to a
discussion and it stopped Vernon in his tracks. ‘We really do not have time for this. We have just
over a minute to get out of here. Might I suggest that Harry says goodbye to his family and then we
can gather everything and leave?’

It had been said politely but it seemed to jolt everyone to their senses. Harry turned to look
at the Dursleys for what, he suddenly realised, could be for the last time. He didn’t know if this
was a bad thing or not, but he found himself at a complete loss for anything to say to them.

Instead, he walked over to Vernon and thrust out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

His uncle looked like he would snub even that token gesture, but after a quick glance at Mad-Eye
and Kingsley seemed to think better of it. He quickly shook Harry’s hand before striding over to
his luggage and pulling on his coat. Dudley quickly followed him and did likewise.

Harry turned to his aunt. She seemed to be having an internal dispute with herself but in the
end she seemed to come to a decision and her normally severe features softened a little.

‘Take care, Harry,’ she said. She looked as if she might actually embrace him for a second, but
thought better of it and went to join her husband and son. On the way past, however, she placed a
hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. It was the only sign of affection or comfort
she had ever shown him.

‘Twenty seconds,’ said Mad-Eye, who was staring intently at his watch as if searching for the
secret of immortality within. Harry just stood and stared at his relatives across the room.

‘Hold tight now,’ said Lupin, interlocking his arm with Harry’s. ‘Don’t let go.’

‘Ten seconds,’ said Mad-Eye. ‘Get ready.’

Harry chanced one last look at his relatives. Surprisingly, it was Dudley who looked as if he
was debating something. Finally he looked up as Moody began his countdown from five.

‘Thanks for saving me from those Dementors,’ he said suddenly.

Harry was too astonished to reply immediately. Just as he found his voice, he heard Moody shout
‘NOW!’ and, with a familiar twisting sensation inside him, and after a loud crack, he found himself
standing outside the back door of the Burrow.

*a/n Although no one was executed in Britain after 1965, the death penalty for Treason, Mutiny
and (bizzarely) setting fire to the Royal Dockyard was not finally abolished until 1998. So I just
meet the timescale for the purposes of this tale. Which is nice.

**Whilst the idea of a politician’s wife sending such a letter may seem far fetched to some
readers, it should be pointed out that the letter to Rufus from his wife is almost a word for word
copy of a letter sent to Winston Churchill by his wife. This letter was sent in the Summer of 1940
not long after Winston had become Prime Minister and when Britain faced Nazi Germany alone after
the fall of France. Its existence is proof that stress can affect even our great leaders. Winston
was renowned for his personable nature and his staff were always devoted to him. However, the
crushing pressure of those months obviously got to him, and after receiving this letter, his
attitude improved. This I found useful, for I intend to make Rufus a more likeable character than
JKR did. I always felt a bit sorry for him when reading the books.



2. Vino Veritas
---------------

**Chapter 2 – Vino Veritas**

Hermione Granger sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow and glanced at her watch. Eleven-fifty;
Harry would be here soon. She actually felt quite nervous about seeing him again and she wished she
knew why. She was joined in her vigil by Ron, Ginny and Mr & Mrs Weasley. All were sitting at
the table with the exception of Mrs Weasley, who stood by the kitchen sink peering out of the
window into the night.

Looking over at Ginny, she noticed that her friend seemed very nervous too. Ginny had spent the
majority of the evening shifting from seat to seat, chewing her fingernails and constantly glancing
at the clock. Hermione had a degree of sympathy for Ginny. She was well aware that the younger girl
had seemingly achieved her dreams last term only for them to be snatched away from her after
Dumbledore’s funeral. Hermione could understand Harry’s reasons for breaking off the relationship,
but part of her felt that he was making a mistake. He had seemed very happy with Ginny last term
and, Merlin knew, he had needed a little bit of happiness. Her insides still crawled when she
thought of the way she had treated Harry last year. For the first time since they became friends
she hadn’t been there for him and fervently hoped that no lasting damage had been done to their
friendship as a result.

And that was why she was nervous, she realised. Would he be angry with her? She had tried to
make amends after the funeral by promising her full support and although Harry had seemed to accept
this, she had seen the troubled look in his eyes. And the fact she wasn’t allowed to write to him
over the summer didn’t help matters. Mad-Eye had been quite specific about that, but she had
finally summoned the will to defy the old Auror and had written to Harry. Sending it by Muggle post
had probably helped. Voldemort wouldn’t deign to lower himself into considering such methods. She
only wished that she had thought of it sooner.

She had enjoyed her summer, despite feeling pangs whenever she thought of Dumbledore and Harry.
She had spent a lot of time with her parents; not doing anything much, just spending some quality
time together. She wanted to be certain that her parents were in no doubt how much she loved them
as she was well aware that with Dumbledore gone there was no guarantee of survival for anyone. It
irked her sometimes that Ron and the rest of the Weasleys almost expected her to come straight to
the Burrow each summer. Did they not realise that she had a family too? And that she might want to
spend some time with them? She knew that they had her best interests at heart, and she loved them
all, but sometimes she wondered about their insularity from the Muggle world.

She was distracted by a sudden movement from Ron as he stood up and casually walked over to the
pot that was simmering on the hob. Just as he was about to lift the lid, his mother suddenly
intervened.

‘Ronald Weasley! Get away from that soup! I told you we would be waiting until Harry got here
before we had anything to eat.’

‘But, mum, I’m starving. Can’t I have just a little bit to keep me going? Please?’

‘You are always starving,’ Molly replied, ‘It’s your natural state. Now get away from that soup
or you will get nothing when Harry does arrive. Honestly, I don’t know where you put it all.
Sometimes I think you must have hollow legs.’

Ron looked over at Hermione and rolled his eyes before sullenly returning to his seat.

‘Do you think Harry will be OK?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Only, I know that he has had a lot on his
plate recently, and spending a month with those Muggles won’t have been easy.’

‘I’m sure he is fine,’ she replied, ‘he has probably been bored out of his mind, but things will
be OK once he gets here.’ She had deliberately kept her tone light, and she hoped that Ron didn’t
notice her discomfort. Unwittingly, he had asked the very thing that had been at the front of her
mind for most of the summer. She was worried about Harry, but she hadn’t credited Ron with having
the imagination to think the same. This was perhaps a bit unfair on him. He may not be the most
sensitive of souls, but he did care a great deal about Harry and had been friends with him for
longer than she had.

*Longer, but not necessarily better*, she thought, and then admonished herself for the
conceit. That may have been true once, but could she really claim to be a true friend after what
had happened last year? She thought back to his face when she had spoken of his ‘saving people
thing’ before the rescue attempt at the Ministry. She hadn’t meant to wound him; she was only
trying to make him stop and think, but he had looked as if she had slapped him. The fact she had
been proven correct was no consolation to her. Harry had asked for help and she had deeply offended
him.

The events at the Ministry had shaken her to the core, and she thought that may have had
something to do with her behaviour last year. She had always been aware on some level that there
was an inherent danger to being a friend of Harry Potter, but nearly getting killed that night had
really driven home what was at stake. She had returned home last summer a lot more subdued and had
withdrawn into herself. She had decided that she was going to have to be more prudent to avoid a
repeat of what had happened. Harry and Ron were always acting rashly; dashing into dangerous
situations without thinking or planning, and surviving by the skin of their teeth. That being the
case, she would have to be the voice of reason for the three of them. If they were not going to
consider the hazards, then she would have to do it on their behalf, she had decided.

And so when Harry had come to her with his suspicions about Malfoy and Snape, she had refused to
take him seriously. She believed she was doing this for the best and that she was keeping them safe
by not plunging into some hare-brained scheme. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that Harry
needed her, needed her counsel and needed her support.

And then Dumbledore had been murdered and everything changed.

It was as if she had been walking in darkness and someone had flipped on the light. Harry had
been right and her misjudgement, her prudence, her cowardice even, had led to the death of the
Headmaster and nearly to the death of Harry as well. He still had not spoken in detail of the
events of that night and she was actually terrified at the thought of what he had endured. And then
it had occurred to her that although she had nearly been killed at the Ministry, Harry had faced
death every year since coming to Hogwarts and had lost nearly everyone that had cared about him in
his young life. First his parents; then his Godfather. Now it was his teacher and mentor who had
been killed. He had witnessed it all, and knowing Harry, probably blamed himself for it all too.
And on those occasions when he had rushed in without thinking, had he not saved lives? Ginny in
second year; Sirius a year later. And then of course he had saved her life in first year by
charging headlong into a duel with a mountain troll. She had not complained that day about his
rashness. Finally she had realised how selfish she had been. What sort of a friend lets their own
fears take precedence over the needs of others?

She was drawn out of her reverie by an awareness that Ron was talking to her.

‘I said HERMIONE! Are you OK? You seemed to switch off for a minute there. I’ve been trying to
get your attention for a bit now.’

‘Sorry, Ron. I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind. We have a lot to talk to Harry about.’

Ron nodded and looked as if he might reply, but thought better of it and looked away again.

It had been strange, but neither of them had seemed willing to talk about Harry since she
arrived yesterday. It was as if the two of them were determined to put the events of last year
behind them by pretending they had never happened. And that was without going over the whole
Lavender/McLaggan affair. She knew that issue would have to be resolved, and soon, because there
was too much at stake to ignore it. She and Ron had been walking on eggshells round each other
since yesterday and it had to stop.

‘We have a lot to talk about too, Ron,’ she added. Ron looked round at her again and turned a
bright shade of red.

‘Yeah, we do,’ he replied. They held each others gaze for a moment before a loud CRACK could be
heard coming from the garden.

‘They’re here! They’re here!’ cried Molly. ‘Come on everyone, Harry’s here.’

Hermione broke her gaze away from Ron. She felt unable to move for a second and her heart was
pounding in her chest at the mention of Harry’s arrival. Without casting a glance back at Ron she
dashed to the back door and raced into the garden.

Ron made to follow but for some reason chanced a look at Ginny. Her eyes had followed Hermione
out of the door and she had a very thoughtful look on her face. She noticed Ron watching her and
gave him a thin smile.

‘Shall we?’ she asked, tilting her head towards the door.

‘Sure,’ replied Ron. ‘After you.’

Ginny strode to the door and Ron followed, deep in thought. She might not have realised, but Ron
had noticed *both* expressions on Ginny’s face when her eyes had followed Hermione out of the
room. The thoughtful look; and the look of resentment that had preceded it.

*Trouble ahead*, he thought to himself.

**************

Harry found himself facing the back door of the Burrow feeling slightly disorientated. Lupin had
let go of his arm as soon as they arrived and the effects of the Apparition, coupled with his shock
at Dudley’s parting words had left him slightly light headed; a feeling that wasn’t helped when the
back door of the house was suddenly thrown open and the bright lights from within penetrated the
pitch darkness outside, temporarily blinding him.

‘Harry! Oh Harry! Happy birthday!’

Harry smiled. *Hermione*. But before he could open his mouth to reply he was suddenly
engulfed in a ferocious hug that knocked the wind from his lungs. Already struggling to regain his
wits, this last event was enough to finally tip the scales and he fell crashing to the ground with
Hermione splayed on top of him.

‘Hi, good to see you too,’ he said, laughing as he tried to disentangle himself.

His laughter was infectious, with Lupin, Tonks, Molly and Arthur all joining in.

‘Do I not get a welcome hug too, Hermione?’ asked Remus, with one eyebrow arched
questioningly.

Hermione struggled to her feet, muttering under her breath about only being pleased to see
Harry. She too was laughing, but stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Ron and Ginny’s faces as
they finally caught up with the rest of the group. She turned a bright shade of crimson and hoped
that it was too dark for anyone to notice.

‘Hi, Harry, it’s great to see you mate. Happy birthday,’ said Ron, now smiling as he offered his
hand to help Harry to his feet. Harry gratefully accepted the offer and allowed himself to be
hauled up, before vigorously shaking Ron’s hand.

‘Thanks, Ron, it’s good to see you too. It’s been a long summer; I thought I was never going to
get here.’

‘Happy birthday, Harry,’ said Ginny, approaching him. She opened her arms and gave him a quick
embrace, but his response was timid and he let go as soon as he could, hopefully without causing
offence.

‘Thanks, Ginny,’ he replied, ‘you…you’re looking well.’

His reticence had been noticed though and Ginny eyed him curiously for a moment. The four
teenagers stood looking at one another and Harry could sense awkwardness between them. Thankfully,
it did not last long as Molly rushed over to him, wiping tears from her eyes.

‘Oh, Harry, it’s so good to see you. Happy birthday!’ she bubbled as she enveloped him in her
arms. ‘You’re so thin! Now come on, you must come inside. I have some soup heating on the hob and
it should be ready by now.’

On the way into the house, Harry accepted hugs, handshakes and congratulations from Tonks, Remus
and Arthur. He was grateful for the interruption as he needed some time to assimilate what had just
occurred. He was well aware of the awkwardness between him and his friends, but he didn’t want to
deal with it right now. Instead, he was looking forward to some of Mrs Weasley’s excellent cooking
and an update on what he had missed since his exile to the Dursleys.

*******

Twenty minutes later a fed and watered Harry sat back in his chair and relaxed. Mrs Weasley’s
cooking was up to her usual excellent standards and he had lavished praise on both the soup and the
home made bread that accompanied it. The conversation had been light and frivolous with the
upcoming wedding being the main topic. Hermione, Ginny, Molly and Tonks were going on about ‘colour
schemes’ and ‘floral arrangements’ and the men round the table listened in with a look of
bemusement as if the women were talking in Greek. Harry had hardly said a word, but was still happy
to just bask in the warmth of his friends. Indeed, he couldn’t remember feeling as contented for a
long time.

Arthur suddenly rose from the table and disappeared for a moment. He returned with his hands
behind his back and a mischievous look on his face.

‘Well, Harry, I’m sure you are keen to hear everything that has been going on since you went to
your relatives house, but can I suggest we relax a bit first before we go into details? After all,
you are now a man in the eyes of the wizarding world, so it’s about time we introduced you to one
of the few benefits of getting older.’ With a wink towards Remus, he produced a bottle of Ogden’s
Old Firewhisky from behind his back and set it on the table.

‘Really, Arthur, is this necessary?’ asked Molly. ‘I mean, it’s very late and I’m sure Harry
just wants to go to bed. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage him to start
drinking.’

‘Come on, Molly, it’s his seventeenth birthday. Let him relax and enjoy himself a little. Do you
not remember your seventeenth birthday dear?’ he added with a glint in his eye. Molly flushed a
little, and for once was at a loss for words.

‘I don’t think she does remember, Arthur,’ said Lupin with a laugh, ‘maybe that’s why she
doesn’t want Harry to drink.’

‘It’s OK, Mrs Weasley, really,’ added Harry. ‘I want to know what’s been going on and I don’t
think I will be able to sleep tonight if I am still wondering about it. Besides,’ he added with a
grin, ‘I’ve always wondered what Firewhisky tastes like.’

As if taking that as his cue, Arthur summoned eight glasses from the sideboard and began filling
them with generous measures of the golden spirit. Molly looked as if she was about to protest about
Ginny receiving a glass, but evidently thought better of it and said nothing.

‘A toast!’ said Arthur, raising his glass. ‘To Harry Potter. Happy birthday and here’s to many,
many more.’

‘Happy birthday, Harry,’ chorused the rest of the room, and everyone took a drink of the raw
liquor. Harry decided to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Sweet Merlin,’ he choked as the raw spirit burned his throat on the way down. He resisted the
urge to cough but noticed that Hermione and Ginny had failed to do so. He glanced at Ron, his eyes
beginning to water, and was relieved to see that his friend was also struggling to keep the
moisture from his eyes.

‘Phoah! That’ll put hairs on your chest.’

‘Really, Ronald,’ said Hermione in a waspish tone, ‘that kind of thing may turn you on, but a
hairy chest isn’t something that is high on my or Ginny’s wish list.’ She had struggled to say
anything but felt that Ron’s remark couldn’t pass unnoticed.

Everyone laughed, and it did much to ease the mood in the room that had threatened to turn a bit
uncomfortable when Arthur had suggested discussing the latest news. Harry took another mouthful of
Firewhisky before speaking. It didn’t seem so bad this time. *Actually quite nice really*.

‘So what has been happening? Has Voldemort made any moves?’ He ignored the winces from everyone
except Moony and Hermione.

He had addressed the question to Arthur, but the older man looked over to Remus, his expression
a question. Remus stood up and began pacing the room, his features betraying the fact that he was
deep in thought.

‘No, is the short answer, Harry,’ he began, ‘but I think it is a bit more complicated than that.
The Order has had people out on the streets trying to pick up information. We have hit just about
every dodgy bar and trader in the country but we aren’t hearing anything. It would seem that
Voldemort is biding his time for the moment.’

‘But why would he do that?’ asked Hermione. ‘Surely after Dumbledore’s death, the time would be
ripe for him to make a move?’

‘You would think so,’ replied Lupin, ‘but it’s not as simple as that. I think that Dumbledore’s
death has really thrown him and he isn’t sure what to do next. One of his more admirable qualities
is his strategic ability. He thinks and plans long term, and I’m sure every plan he had was
contingent on Dumbledore being alive. He will be revising his strategy and he always takes his time
with that.’

‘But he attacked Hogwarts to get Dumbledore,’ protested Ron. ‘We know now that Malfoy was
plotting his death all year and that he let the Death Eaters into the castle.’ He pointedly avoided
looking at Harry as he said this.

‘Think about it, Ron,’ said Lupin, ‘do you really think that Voldemort expected Malfoy to
succeed in killing Dumbledore? Or that any of the other Death Eaters would manage it? Even Snape?
No, Dumbledore was much too powerful for ten times the number that attacked Hogwarts. Voldemort
wasn’t to know that Dumbledore would be weakened from a previous assignment; he would not have
expected the attack to succeed in killing Albus.’

‘So why attack then?’ asked Ron.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Lupin. ‘He will have had his reasons. As I said, one of his most
admirable qualities is his ability to plan long term. What’s the matter, Harry?’

He had asked this because Harry had suddenly sat up bolt right in his seat as something occurred
to him. If Dumbledore had not been the target that night, then Harry had a pretty good idea what
Voldemort was really after. He could not discuss this at the moment however; he had to wait to
speak to Ron and Hermione alone.

‘Nothing,’ he lied, ‘it’s just that I don’t like hearing the word ‘admirable’ in relation to
Voldemort.’

The lie seemed to have done the trick, as Lupin merely nodded gravely.

‘Harry, it is vital that you listen to what I have to say here, because it might save your life.
You must not underestimate Voldemort.’

Harry made to reply but Lupin cut him off.

‘You must realise that Voldemort does have many admirable qualities. It’s what makes him so
dangerous. He is a master strategist; he is magically powerful; he is patient; he is very, very
intelligent; he keeps a tight rein on his emotions and he never, ever reveals his plans until he is
ready.’ Lupin had been ticking the points off on his fingers as he recited the list, but he stopped
and looked Harry directly in the eye. ‘These qualities in themselves are admirable. It is only the
use that Voldemort puts them to that is reprehensible. Please do not lose sight of that fact, I beg
you.’

Harry was suddenly reminded of the day he had bought his wand in Diagon Alley. Old Ollivander
had said something similar to him. Had said that Voldemort had done ‘Great things; terrible, but
great.’ And he understood what Remus was saying.

‘It’s OK, Remus. I’m not likely to underestimate him. I’ve seen him in action, remember?’ It
wasn’t said harshly, but it cast a shadow in the room.

‘I know, Harry,’ replied Remus softly, ‘but I had to be sure.’ He took a deep breath before
continuing. ‘There has been very little activity from Voldemort, but the Ministry has managed to
catch a few of the less important Death Eaters, and it’s perhaps the developments there that are of
the most significance.’

‘Who did they catch?’ asked Harry. He noticed that Arthur had surreptitiously refilled his glass
as Remus was speaking. He took another sip, enjoying the warmth now that he was getting used to
it.

‘Avery, Nott and MacNair.’

‘Are they back in Azkaban?’

‘No, the Ministry executed them. Hanged them,’ replied Remus.

Harry went rigid at this news. ‘Executed them? *Executed them?* Since when has the Ministry
had the power to execute people?’ He looked at the faces around the room as if suspecting some
trick or other, but the solemn looks confirmed that this was for real.

‘Since last week. Here, take a look at this.’

Remus handed Harry a copy of the *Daily Prophet*, dated from the previous week. He quickly
scanned the front page, discovering for the first time just what changes had taken place over the
summer. ‘Can they really do this?’ he finally asked.

‘They can, and they have. Technically it’s legal and constitutional. Rufus has really done his
homework on this one. We are now living in a restricted society, Harry.’ Remus had not said what he
thought about the new measures, but the tone of his voice betrayed his feelings on the matter.

‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this,’ said Harry, ‘I mean, hanging people? Restricting the
press? Holding suspects without trial?’

‘I don’t think it’s such a bad thing,’ interjected Ron. ‘Those Death Eaters were known
murderers. I won’t lose any sleep over it. I mean, if you haven’t done anything wrong you have
nothing to worry about; right?’ He addressed this last to Remus, who barely acknowledged it.

‘It’s not as simple as that, Ron,’ said Hermione. ‘The Ministry has taken away some very
important freedoms from us. They can act with impunity against anyone they deem to be a threat.
It’s all very well saying it’s for our own protection, but what gives them the right to decide who
needs protecting from whom? Who will protect us from them? ‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodies,’ she
added.

‘You know I don’t speak French, Hermione,’ said Ron.

‘It’s Latin, Ron. Honestly, sometimes I wonder! ‘*Quis custodiet ipsos custodes*?’ Who will
guard us from the guards?’

Hermione’s little language lesson brought a few snickers to the room. Harry suppressed a grin so
as not to upset Ron.

‘I agree with Hermione,’ said Harry. He did not notice the sudden flush of pleasure on
Hermione’s face at these words. ‘This doesn’t sit well with me at all. Is this why you couldn’t
bring me here before I turned seventeen? Do you really think the Ministry would have held me
without charge?’

‘Probably not, Harry,’ said Lupin, ‘but we couldn’t take the risk. So there you have it. That’s
what has been going on since the funeral.’

‘’It’s a lot,’ replied Harry. He sat in silence for a minute, trying to absorb this information
and its implications. He let the conversation wash over him – he wasn’t in the mood at the moment
for a philosophical discussion on the pros and cons of the Ministry position. He was only aware of
a sense of unease as he did not like the new restrictions. He took another drink and noticed with
regret that his glass was now empty. He felt very tired now after three large glasses, so he
supposed it didn’t really matter now.

‘I think it’s about time that we all headed of to bed,’ said Molly pointedly. ‘We have a lot to
do tomorrow and will do it better after a good night’s sleep.’

No one seemed inclined to argue about this. Besides, the bottle of whisky was now empty, so with
rather subdued movements, they bid each other goodnight.

‘See you in the morning,’ said Hermione as she gave Harry a hug. ‘We have a lot to discuss.’

‘Goodnight, everyone,’ said Lupin and Tonks together. They walked out into the garden and stood
with arms linked before Apparating away. It was only then that it dawned on Harry that they must be
going to the same destination. *Were they now living together?* He made a mental note to ask
Remus in the morning.

After washing and cleaning their teeth, Harry and Ron collapsed into their beds. They hadn’t
spoken to each other alone yet, and Harry thought that Ron probably had a few things to say to him.
He was tired, but thought it would probably be best to talk now without either Hermione or Ginny
present. It did not occur to him that they were both still feeling the effects of a few large shots
of Firewhisky, so with hindsight, the conversation that transpired was perhaps not totally
unexpected.

‘You OK, Harry? We’ve been worried about you,’ said Ron as he slipped into his bed.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Glad to be here. It’s really good to see you again.’

A slightly uncomfortable silence ensued as Harry pulled back his covers and climbed into his
bed. Ron finally plucked up the courage to speak.

‘Harry, do you mind if I ask you something?’

‘Not at all.’

‘If it’s none of my business, tell me to bugger off.’

‘I said it was alright, Ron, fire away.’

‘Are you really breaking up with Ginny for good? Or is it just until we finish what we have to
do? I hate asking, but she is my sister, and she has been a bit upset all summer. She really likes
you, Harry.’

‘I know, Ron, and I really like her.’ Ron’s face brightened. ‘But not in that way. Not anymore.’
He glanced across to his friend and noticed a sad look on his face now. ‘It’s hard to explain. Last
year was very difficult for me. You had Lavender. Hermione wasn’t herself and I guess I was just
feeling a bit lonely. I was attracted to Ginny – she is a wonderful girl – and I loved her company,
but the more time we spent together the more I realised that I didn’t love her in the way that she
wanted me to. I suppose it felt a bit like kissing your sister,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘But you were kissing my sister,’ said Ron, sounding confused.

‘Not *your* sister. *My* sister. If I had one. Kissing Ginny was like what it would be
like to kiss my own sister. If I had one that is.’ Harry ran this sentence through his head again
to see if it made sense. It did. *Just*. It was at this moment that he realised he had drunk
quite a lot of Firewhisky.

‘So what you are saying is that you kissing Ginny feels the same as me kissing Ginny?’

Harry nodded.

‘Oh.’ Ron considered this for a moment. ‘*Gross*.’

‘I know, but there is nothing I can do about it. I came to realise this over the summer. I hope
you are not angry with me. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt Ginny. I do love her,
but…’

‘...only as a sister. Yeah, yeah. I get it.’ Ron paused for a second. ‘It’s OK, Harry, I’m not
angry with you. How could I be? You’re my best mate. Ginny will get over it. She will just have to.
You can’t change the way you feel about someone just because they want you to.’

‘Thanks, Ron.’

‘You will have to tell her though. You know that don’t you? It’s not fair to string her
along.’

‘I know. I’ll tell her the first chance I get. I Promise.’

In the silence that ensued, Harry thought that Ron was becoming quite philosophical in his old
age. Or maybe it was just the booze. He had a question of his own he wanted answering, however, and
now was as good a time as any to ask it. And considering how much alcohol they had both consumed,
it was probably a better time than most.

‘Can I ask you something, Ron? It’s personal.’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s going on between you and Hermione?’ There. He had said it. This was easy.

Ron froze for a second before answering.

‘In what way?’

‘In the way that you two have been dancing around one another for the past year without doing
anything about it. Do you like her? Romantically I mean?’ he added, so there could be no ambiguity
about his question.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

‘What do you mean you don’t know? Either you like her or not,’ said Harry, sitting up and eying
his friend accusingly.

Ron sighed. ‘It’s not that simple, Harry. Things between me and Hermione can be…difficult.
Sometimes I think that I really do fancy her. I mean, she is pretty and smart and loyal and kind;
and at times I really feel like we have a connection, you know? But then she goes and does or says
something that drives me nuts. And I know I do the same to her. I don’t think we are very
compatible. I mean, how much do we really have in common? When I talk about Quidditch, I bore her.
And then she talks about stuff that is so far over my head that I can’t even see the bottom of it.
I think I was attracted to the idea of going of going out with her, especially after you hooked up
with Ginny. I thought you would be spending less time with me and Hermione, so it seemed the
obvious thing for us to get together. But I realise now that we are not very well suited for one
another. I mean, she thinks in curves; I think in straight lines. I don’t think we would work
together.’

Harry was surprised by the eloquence Ron was displaying. He was also aware that his heart had
given a little *skip* when Ron concluded that he didn’t like Hermione romantically. He decided
to ignore that for the moment.

‘You seem to be thinking OK tonight – straight or otherwise.’

‘Yeah, the whisky is probably helping. Anyway, something occurred to me not that long ago that
made me doubt my feelings for her. If I wasn’t friends with you, and you weren’t friends with her,
would Hermione and I be friends? Probably not, if I’m honest with myself. I’m grateful that she is
my friend, but I suspect that we will never be more than that. I’m not too upset about it; you
can’t help the way you are.’

Harry looked at his friend thoughtfully. He had never credited Ron with having the imagination
or sensitivity that he had displayed tonight. Maybe they should drink more often. There was one
final issue to be resolved though.

‘Are we OK? Things were a bit strange last year.’

‘Yeah I know, and I’m sorry.’

‘There’s no need-…’

‘Yes there is. I was a bit of a prat last year. To you and to Hermione. It’s about time I
removed my head from my arse and grew up a bit.’

‘Me too. I must have been a nightmare last year. I’m sorry.’

‘You had a lot to deal with after the Ministry. After Sirius.’

Both were silent for a long moment, deep in thought.

‘Whatever happens, Harry, you’re my best mate. You always will be. Nothing will change
that.’

‘Thanks, Ron. You too. My best mate I mean. We cool then?’

‘We’re cool.’ Ron grinned suddenly. ‘What do you reckon? Shall we try and creep downstairs and
‘liberate’ some more of dad’s Firewhisky?’

Harry looked at his friend for a moment. It was obvious that Ron was trying to get them back
onto more familiar ground after such a frank conversation. He realised that he had his best mate
back, without having fully appreciated that he had been gone, and suddenly things didn’t look quite
so bad. A weight that Harry hadn’t even noticed on his shoulders was now gone. Then his face split
into a smile. The first proper, genuine smile he’d had in months.

‘Sure.’



3. Coming of Age
----------------

**Chapter 3 – Coming of Age**

**Thursday 31st July 1997**

Harry awoke the next morning and promptly decided that it was a bad idea. He was lying face down
in the bed and slowly became aware that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He made to
move but was immediately struck by a pain in his head that felt like someone was trying to squeeze
his eyeballs out of their sockets. He tried to focus on what had wakened him but his brain didn’t
seem to be working properly. It was as if it was lagging about twenty seconds behind the rest of
his body.

Someone had come into the room, he realised. He had heard a knock at the door before the sound
of it opening and someone entering the room had penetrated his sleep. He concentrated and summoned
the energy to turn round and investigate. When he finally focussed on his surroundings however, he
found the room to be empty; the only sound being the chainsaw that was Ron Weasley at that moment.
*I had forgotten how badly he snores*, Harry thought to himself.

Deciding his imagination was playing tricks on him; he decided to turn over and tried to get
back to sleep.

Five minutes later, he was wakened again by a much louder knock on the door. This time Ron was
also roused from his stupor.

‘Wotsgoinon? Wotthehellwozat?’ he muttered, followed by a short pause before, ‘Sweet Merlin!
What’s wrong with me? Why is everything so sore?’

‘Everything is so sore because you two obviously had far too much to drink last night. What on
earth were you both thinking? Stupid question really. You weren’t thinking; either of you.’

It was a voice that was much too bright and happy for this time in the morning, thought Harry.
Whatever time in the morning it was. No one should feel so full of the joys of the day when he was
feeling like this.

‘Hermione?’ Ron tentatively asked. He winced, as if even the effort of uttering that solitary
word had proven too much for his fragile condition.

‘Yes, and I don’t know why I even bother. I came up here five minutes ago expecting you to be
awake, but the two of you were dead to the world. I hope you are both feeling thoroughly
miserable,’ she added.

‘We are, believe me, we are,’ replied Harry. He tentatively reached across to the bedside table
and groped around for his glasses. Putting them on, he turned to face Hermione, but the sudden
movement made his head swim, and he took a moment before speaking. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’ he
asked, noticing that she carried two goblets that were emitting a rather ominous green smoke.

‘Something you don’t deserve,’ was the brusque reply. She seemed to relent though. ‘When I came
in earlier the room smelled like a distillery. It still does actually. It didn’t take a genius to
work out what you two have been up to. It also wasn’t hard to work out that you both would be
feeling lousy this morning and as it is Harry’s birthday – happy birthday by the way – I took pity
on you and managed to get a hold of some of Mr Weasley’s hangover potion. He said you were welcome
to it, but that if Molly finds out there will be hell to pay. He also says you owe him two bottles
of Firewhisky.’

‘Two!’ exclaimed Ron, before immediately regretting his outburst. ‘We only took one,’ he added
in a quieter tone.

‘I know, but he said to tell you that two bottles will make sure Molly doesn’t find out.’

‘That’s blackmail, that is,’ said Ron.

‘Who cares?’ interjected Harry. ‘Do you want your mum to find out? Oh and, Hermione? Thanks. You
are a bloody life saver. We owe you for this. Big time.’

She smiled. ‘No problem, Harry. Here, drink up,’ she added, offering a cup to each of her
friends.

Harry took the proffered goblet and examined it dubiously. Glancing across at Ron, he saw that
his friend didn’t waste any time and was already necking it down. He grimaced, but then a more
relaxed expression could be seen on his face.

‘That was absolutely disgusting,’ he said. ‘It worked though. I’m feeling better already.
Thanks, Hermione. Really.’

‘You’re welcome, Ronald.’

Harry glanced down again at the goblet in his hand. *Ah well, in for a penny…*

He had to resist the sudden urge to retch as the potion slid down his throat. Merlin! This stuff
was awful. It was like a cross between some Polyjuice potion and some raw egg. But it worked.
Almost immediately the pressure in his skull was relieved and it no longer felt as if someone had
scoured his mouth with sandpaper.

He sat back in bed. ‘Thanks, Hermione, that’s much better. What would we do without you?’

‘Probably get into more trouble than you already do,’ she replied waspishly, but there was a
hint of amusement in her tone, and the glint in her eye let him know that she wasn’t mad at them.
She turned to face Ron.

‘Ron, your mum says you have to get downstairs right now. Breakfast is ready and she says you
have a lot of work to get through today to help set up for the wedding.’ Turning to Harry, she
added, ‘she says you don’t have to bother, Harry, as it’s your birthday.’

‘It’s OK, I don’t mind. I’ll be glad to help. If you two are going to be doing chores all day
then I should assist. It would be boring sitting around all day with no one to talk to.’

‘Boring, but more relaxing,’ said Ron. ‘Well, I’d better get up then,’ he added, before climbing
out of bed, putting on his dressing gown and shuffling off downstairs.

Hermione watched him go with an affectionate smile before turning round to face Harry.

‘Have you got a minute, Harry? I wanted a quick word with you. Alone. It may not be the best
time, but I don’t know if we will get another chance today.’

‘No problem. What’s up?’

Hermione sat down on Ron’s bed before replying. She seemed to be ordering her thoughts and had a
look on her face that was very familiar to him. She was chewing her bottom lip and her hazel eyes
had a lost, faraway look about them.

‘I’m not sure where to begin, to be honest, but I suppose the first thing I should do is to say
sorry…’

‘There’s no need…’ Harry began, but was cut off before he could finish.

‘Please wait until I have finished, Harry.’ There was a hint of asperity in her tone, so Harry
decided that a bit of prudence was in order. He shut up.

‘There is every need to apologise, Harry,’ continued Hermione. She was avoiding having to look
at him, instead sitting with her head down, her eyes fixed on her linked hands which were resting
on her lap. ‘I haven’t been a very good friend to you recently. In fact, for most of last year I
wasn’t there for you at all. I was trying to do what was best for us but only ended up making
things worse. If I had only listened to you about Malfoy and Snape then perhaps Dumbledore would
still be alive and-:’

‘Stop,’ said Harry. Hermione went quiet. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. ‘I will not
have you blaming yourself for Dumbledore’s death.’

‘But, Harry…’ she began, finally looking up at her friend.

‘I said stop!’ He realised that anger was creeping into his voice and it wasn’t Hermione he was
angry with. He seemed to be angry quite a lot these days, so with an effort, he calmed himself.
‘You must not blame yourself, Hermione, it wasn’t your fault. I spent most of the summer blaming
myself before I realised two things. One; Dumbledore wouldn’t blame anyone else for his death, so
there is no point in beating yourself up about it; and two, the fault lies with those gits that
murdered him. Snape, Malfoy and Voldemort. No one else is to blame.’

She smiled at him through her tears. ‘Thanks for saying that, Harry, but it still doesn’t excuse
the way I treated you last year. There was the Potions book too; I was out of order for being so
angry with you for that.’

‘Why were you so angry?’

She paused before replying. ‘I guess I was just trying to protect you - us. I was so worried
about you after the Ministry last year, and I wanted to try and keep you out of trouble. But then
you kept doing these things to get involved anyway. That Potions book was just the last straw I
suppose. I just thought it would cause you more trouble.’

‘Trouble already has a nasty habit of finding me – you know that.’

‘I do know that, but I thought if I could just keep us from looking for trouble then it would
all go away. Naïve, I know, but I was so scared after the Ministry that I was willing to try
anything. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. I’m so sorry.’ The tears that
she had been fighting to control burst forth at this.

Harry did the only thing that seemed natural at that point. He slipped out of his bed and put
his arms around her, hoping to offer her some comfort.

‘It’s OK, Hermione, really,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘I know exactly how you feel. There
isn’t a day that goes by without me worrying about you or Ron getting hurt because of me. Enough
people have died saving me; I don’t want to add you or Ron to the list. And don’t worry about our
friendship. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend than you. I’ve lost count of the number of
times you have saved me, so don’t feel guilty about last year. I understand. I wasn’t the best of
friends to you either. If I was, then I would have listened to you more. You were right about the
Potions book, weren’t you?’

She nodded in his arms but didn’t reply. After a moment, she stopped crying and looked up to
meet his eyes. Harry was sorry about this. He had just become aware of how nice the scent of her
hair was. It was also at this point that Hermione realised that that he was sitting holding her in
only his boxer shorts. She stiffened and pulled out of his embrace.

‘Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. You aren’t even dressed. I’d better leave.’ She made to stand, but Harry
prevented her by grabbing her hand and pulling her down to sit next to him again. He laughed,
wondering why he didn’t feel more uncomfortable. It was strange, but he wasn’t bothered about
sitting half naked next to his friend.

‘It’s a bit late now, Hermione, don’t worry about it. Listen,’ he added, ‘it’s important that we
clear this up because we have got a lot to do and we can’t have any secrets between us. Not even
the colour of my underwear,’ he added with a smile.

She giggled at his remark and he was pleased to see that she did not attempt to leave.

‘We have been through too much together to let something like this come between us,’ he
continued. ‘I know I can rely on you and your friendship. I hope you feel the same way about me?’
She nodded. ‘So the best thing we can do is to put last year behind us and continue as we were
before. If you insist on apologising I will accept, but only on the condition that you accept an
apology from me. I behaved like an arse last year. I wasn’t there for you, especially when you and
Ron had your differences. So are we still friends? Like before?’

‘Of course we are, Harry. Thank you for understanding. You have no idea what it means to me.’
She embraced him again and did not seem too bothered about his current condition. In fact, she
seemed to linger in his arms for longer than necessary. Finally they broke apart and she looked at
him with a slightly thoughtful expression.

‘About me and Ron, I think I should explain.’

‘There really is no need, Hermione. It’s personal and surely it’s between the two of you?’

‘No, it became more than just the two of us when it started to affect our friendship. You have
the right to know what’s going on.’

‘Is there something going on?’

‘Not anymore. Not that there was ever really anything happening between us anyway.’ She paused.
‘It’s hard to explain, Harry. I don’t even know myself what was going on. I wasn’t acting myself
anyway, that’s for sure.’

‘Do you like him?’ He couldn’t believe he had asked her that, especially after his talk with Ron
last night.

‘I thought I did, and I suppose that’s what counts, isn’t it?’ she didn’t wait for a reply. ‘I
think it was part of my whole attitude problem last year. I was striving for some normality in my
life. I thought that if we just tried to act like normal teenagers then we could be normal
teenagers. You know, only worrying about homework, exams and boys – well, in your case, girls. I
was aware that Ron had liked me for a while and I guess I just thought that we would end up
together. I suppose I thought it was inevitable and I have to admit that I found the idea quite
appealing. It never occurred to me that he might end up going out with someone else. I think that’s
why I acted the way I did. My pride was hurt when he went off with Lavender. Here was me thinking
that all I had to do was snap my fingers and Ron would come running like some little puppy dog. The
thought that he didn’t need me scared me. You were already proving that you didn’t need me so when
Ron found someone else I reacted badly. I know now that I don’t feel that way about Ron, but I
treated you both terribly last year,’ she concluded.

‘Have you spoken to Ron about this?’

‘No, but I will. It needs to be resolved.’

‘Don’t feel bad about this, Hermione. There is nothing wrong with wanting to live a normal life.
I have wanted that for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately, with that madman after me, it will
be some time before I can achieve that. And if you are going to remain my friend then that will be
your fate too.’

‘Oh, Harry, of course I am still going to be your friend. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise. I
don’t know how you deal with this all the time, Harry, but we can deal with this. Together.’ She
paused before continuing. ‘Is this what you and Ginny were about last year? Trying to lead a normal
life too?’

Harry nodded.

‘Do you still like her? Or are things finally over between you?’

‘They are finally over. I know that now.’ He thought he saw a flash of relief in her eyes before
she responded.

‘Have you spoken to her yet?’

‘No, but I will. I had this conversation with Ron last night and he told me I had to tell her.
He’s right, of course.’

‘That must have been fun. Talking about breaking up with Ginny to Ron, I mean.’

‘Surprisingly, he was very grown up about it.’ He saw her raise an eyebrow at this. ‘No, really;
he was. Of course, we had downed a few Firewhiskys, so that probably helped, but he was cool with
it. He actually had a better handle on it than I did.’

‘Maybe I should try to speak to him when he’s in such an understanding mood. I’m not looking
forward to this.’

‘You will be fine. Ron will understand. Probably better than you realise.’

She sighed. ‘I hope so.’

‘So are we OK, Hermione? Last year forgotten about?’

‘Yes, Harry. And I’m sorry. Truly sorry.’ She hugged him again. He was beginning to enjoy
this.

‘It’s OK. I’m just glad to have my friend back. My best friend. And one other thing,’ he added,
releasing the embrace and looking her directly in the eye. ‘Don’t ever think that I don’t need you
– I will always need you in my life, wherever it takes me.’

The smile she gave when he said this lit up her face. ‘Thanks, Harry. I’m glad you think that
because I don’t intend going anywhere.’ She hugged him again for a moment before finally letting go
with some reluctance. ‘I had better get downstairs now.’ She gave him a conspirital wink, trying to
establish more familiar ground between them. ‘Molly asked me to keep you distracted while she
prepared some birthday things in the kitchen. I think we have been long enough.’

‘You mean all of this was just to keep me busy? I’m offended, Granger. How dare you play with my
emotions like this. I was beginning to think you actually cared.’

He was smiling as he said this and she picked up on his mood.

‘Now why would you think that, Potter? When have I ever said that I cared about you? What could
possibly have given you that idea?’ She was trying not to laugh. ‘Now get dressed and get
downstairs before I tell you what I really think.’

She stood up and made for the door. Just before she exited, she turned to face him.

‘And, Potter?’

‘Yes, Granger?’

‘Thanks. For everything.’

And with that, she turned and headed down the stairs.

**********

Harry found himself in an excellent mood as he got himself ready to face the day. He was
actually whistling some nameless tune in the shower for a few minutes before he realised he was
doing it. He grinned as he caught himself. *What a difference a day makes.*

When he considered how he had felt when he was back in Privet Drive, he was astonished at how
bleak everything had seemed then. He realised that straightening things out with Ron and Hermione
had done wonders for his mood and he admonished himself for doubting the strength of their
friendship. He could have saved himself a lot of grief over the summer if only he had put more
faith in his two friends.

Ron’s attitude had been the most surprising. Harry had expected him to hit the roof when he
revealed that he was breaking things off with Ginny; but instead, his friend had displayed a degree
of sympathy and understanding that Harry had never credited him with. There was also the fact that
Ron’s confession that he did not see Hermione in a romantic light had done wonders for his own
sense of wellbeing. Ron’s frankness had helped to lower the barriers that had built up between them
last year.

As for Hermione? Harry still didn’t know exactly what he was feeling for her. He had thought a
great deal about her over the summer, and he was now beginning to suspect that it was not merely
out of concern for a lost friendship. His talk with her this morning had been like balsam for his
soul and he could not help grinning when he thought about how open and tender the two of them had
been, or when he remembered that she was not interested in Ron. He knew he cared a great deal about
her – probably more than anyone else he knew – but he had never considered her as more than a
friend. Until now, anyway. He was aware that he was finding her image penetrate his thoughts more
and more these days and it was not an unpleasant sensation, if he was honest with himself. He knew,
however, that he still had unresolved matters with Ginny to deal with first.

The smile that had formed when thinking about his friend disappeared when he contemplated the
conversation he knew he must have with Ginny. The prospect of hurting her was not a pleasant
thought but he was aware that he would have to bite the bullet and be as frank with her as he had
been with Ron and Hermione. With a sigh, he finished getting ready and headed downstairs.

When he arrived in the kitchen he was surprised by the reception he received, despite the
warning from Hermione. It seemed that everyone whom he cared about had made the effort to be here
for his birthday. All the Weasleys, including Bill and Charlie (but not Percy, obviously) were
present, as was Remus and Tonks; Fleur, her parents and Gabrielle; Mad-Eye, Kingsley and Hagrid.
The room had been decorated with banners and streamers and even some party balloons which would
occasionally let the air out and whiz around the room before self inflating again. He had never, in
all his life, seen such an effort put into celebrating his birthday. He was quite touched.

‘Happy birthday, Harry,’ chorused the group. He was suddenly swamped with handshakes and hugs
and messages of congratulations. When he finally disentangled himself from the well wishers, he
managed to compose himself enough to speak.

‘Thank you, everyone. You didn’t need to go to so much effort on my behalf.’

‘Nonsense, Harry,’ said Molly, ‘it’s your seventeenth birthday, and to wizards it is a very good
reason to cause a fuss. You come of age today, Harry, so let’s have no more silly talk about
causing any bother. It was the least we could do. Here,’ she said, handing him a little parcel.

He took it gratefully and after quickly unwrapping it, discovered a rather old fashioned, but
very nice, gold watch.

‘It’s traditional to give a wizard a watch on his seventeenth birthday,’ said Molly. ‘I hope you
don’t mind receiving a second hand one. This one was my brother’s.’

In reply, Harry smiled gratefully and hugged her. He was well aware that she was the closest
thing to a mother figure he had in his life and he tried to impart this in the hug. She seemed to
understand and for once Harry didn’t mind her fussing over him. ‘It’s perfect, thank you.’

Harry could see Molly on the verge of tears so he released her, enabling her to go over to the
kitchen sink to start peeling some potatoes. He watched her affectionately as she wiped her
eyes.

For the next few minutes he was inundated with cards and gifts from his friends. A new Quidditch
book from Ron; some items of dubious origin from Fred and George and an extremely useful pocket
knife from Hagrid that claimed to cut through anything. Fleur and her family had bought him some
very fashionable clothes from France that adjusted to fit him when he put them on, and Bill and
Charlie had gotten him a case of Ogden’s (Arthur would be happy – he could repay him now).

It was at this point that Ginny approached him. He had been hoping to avoid her for a bit, but
he knew that he could not delay the inevitable.

‘Hi, Harry. Happy birthday.’ She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Do you think we could have
a word alone for a minute?’

‘Sure, let’s go next door,’ he replied. He did not notice that Ron and Hermione had seen the
exchange and shared a meaningful look with one another.

They walked in silence to the next room before Ginny closed the door behind them and turned to
face him.

‘I didn’t know what to get you for your birthday, Harry, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure whether I
would be buying a present for my boyfriend or for my friend, so I thought I would wait until I knew
where I stood with you.’ She paused for a second. ‘So where do I stand, Harry? Can you tell
me?’

Harry had been dreading this moment, but her frankness left him no room for manoeuvre. He
decided that the best approach was to be equally as blunt.

‘Yes, I can tell you. You are my friend, Ginny. A very dear friend to me, but no more than that.
I am sorry if I have hurt you, that is the last thing I wanted to do. But I cannot give you what
you want. What I said after the funeral was only a half truth. Part of the reason for breaking up
with you is because I want to keep you safe from Voldemort. But since then I have come to realise
that I can’t offer you the love you want or deserve. I am truly sorry. I can only hope that we
remain friends.’

‘I’m sorry too, Harry – I thought we had something special.’ Ginny seemed close to tears as she
spoke. *What was it with him today?* First Hermione, then Mrs Weasley; and now Ginny.
Birthday’s were supposed to be happy occasions, were they not?

‘It was great, Ginny, but it wasn’t me. I can’t pretend about this – it wouldn’t be fair to
either of us.’

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘We can still be friends, Harry, but I won’t lie to you. Things might be
difficult for a while.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Is there someone else?’

‘No! There is no one else. How can you even ask me that?’

‘I’m sorry, Harry. That was unfair. Please forgive me – I just need to get my head round
this.’

He nodded. ‘Take your time, Ginny, all the time you need.’ They stood awkwardly for a moment
looking at each other before Harry decided that there was nothing more he could do or say. He
turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. When he reached the hallway he
leaned back against the wall and let out a heartfelt sigh. He did not notice Ron and Hermione
watching him.

‘You ok, Harry?’ asked Ron.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t know about Ginny though.’

Ron turned to Hermione.

‘Maybe you could go in and see if she is alright?’

‘I think she might want to be on her own for a while,’ replied Hermione. ‘I don’t think she
would want to see me at the moment. See anyone, for that matter.’

Ron looked as if he might ask her something, but decided against it. Instead, he looked at his
two friends and said, ‘Let’s go then. Plenty to do for the wedding. Mum’s got a list as long as
your arm.’

The three friends headed back into the kitchen in silence, the only sound being the muffled sobs
coming from behind the closed door.

***********

The rest of the day passed incident free for Harry. Most of his time was taken up with
performing a number of chores relating to the wedding which was due to take place in two days. He
had been most insistent to Molly about contributing as she had tried to stop him from doing any
work on his birthday. He was glad for the work – it kept him busy and also kept his mind away from
his earlier conversation with Ginny. He had been given the task of setting up the seating in the
garden and he had found it to be relatively straightforward. The ability to use magic had helped of
course, and soon Harry was assembling chairs in neat rows with successive flourishes of his wand.
Molly no doubt thought she was working him too hard, but after performing chores for the Dursleys
with nothing more than hard graft for years, Harry was finding this particular task to be a
positive hoot. It took him a while to get it just right but, come lunchtime, he was able to survey
his work with a degree of satisfaction.

After lunch, he and Ron were tasked with tidying up the garden. As this included the remit to
de-gnome the property it was not done without humour. Successive lobs of the unfortunate pests
resulted in greater and greater distances on the throws, and the two friends spent a pleasant few
hours out in the fresh air. Bill and Charlie quickly joined them with a case of beer and soon the
air was full of flying gnomes on trajectories that were becoming more and more erratic. It was the
best birthday Harry could remember.

Hermione had been asked to help with the flower arrangements and garden decorations and soon the
trees and bushes were covered with streamers and ribbons; golden baubles and brightly coloured
flowers. The effect was remarkable but somehow the Burrow did not feel quite the same amidst all
the splendour.

Ginny had joined Hermione mid-afternoon, and although the two girls worked well, Harry could
sense a certain coldness between them, even from a distance. He hoped that his break up with Ginny
would not cause any problems for the wedding.

After a spectacular birthday tea – that had included a cake large enough to feed an army – Harry
found himself at something of a loose end. Molly had been adamant that he not help with the
clearing up but not everyone was given such dispensation. As a result, he found himself out in the
garden enjoying the evening sun with a feeling of contentment that he had not had for some time. He
was sitting on the garden bench enjoying a glass of cold beer when he heard footsteps on the gravel
behind him.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Harry turned at the familiar voice. It was Hermione, now washed and changed into a flowing
summer dress of pale blue that made him catch his breath in his throat. She was barefoot and was
carrying a large glass of white wine in one hand. In the other was a small parcel.

She sat down next to him on the bench. ‘It occurred to me that I haven’t given you your present
yet.’

‘It occurred to me too,’ said Harry, smiling. ‘I thought you were serious when you said this
morning that you didn’t care about me.’

She pouted; feigning hurt, but then returned his smile.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t want to give you this with everyone there. It’s a bit more
personal than some of the other presents you got.’

Harry’s curiosity was piqued now. What could she possibly have got him that she didn’t want
anyone to see? As if reading his mind, Hermione handed over the parcel.

Tearing the exquisitely wrapped paper carefully, he opened the parcel to find a small black
velvet box. Raising an eyebrow at his friend as if seeking approval to continue, he saw her give a
small nod, as if offering encouragement to a small child. Turning his attention back to the gift,
Harry opened the box to reveal a beautiful gold pendant in the shape of a broomstick, attached to a
solid gold belcher chain. It was simply stunning in its elegance.

‘I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. It must have cost you a fortune. This is far too
much, Hermione.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. You are my friend and it’s your seventeenth birthday. Money has
nothing to do with it.’ She had tried to sound severe, but instead it came out nervous.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, Hermione, I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed. It’s magnificent. Thank
you.’

She smiled.

‘You’re welcome, Harry.’ She gave him a quick hug. ‘Do you understand now why I didn’t want
anyone to see? Considering you have just broken up with Ginny, I didn’t think it would be
particularly sensitive of me to give you jewellery as some people might think it was too personal a
gift.’

He considered her for a moment. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, almost as if she was afraid
of his reaction to receiving such an expensive gift.

He smiled.

‘This is possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever bought for me. Thank you. You are a great
friend to me, do you know that?’

Her face lit up at this and she gave him another quick hug. After releasing him she sat back and
looked at him somewhat coyly.

‘I spoke to Ron earlier. Or rather he spoke to me. We seemed to have cleared things up.’

‘Was it bad?’

‘No, he was the perfect gentleman. It was just as you said – he had a better understanding of
things than I did. We both decided that we were much better off as friends. It’s something of a
relief that it was so easy. I was afraid that it would affect things between us.’

‘I’m glad. Really. I just wish things had been as smooth between me and Ginny. I think she hates
me.’

‘She doesn’t hate you, Harry. She has just suffered a severe disappointment. She will get over
it – she just needs time.’ It was said with apparent conviction, but Harry could see the doubt in
her eyes.

‘Is everything ok between you and Ginny?’ he asked.

Hermione took her time before replying.

‘I don’t know. She has been a little cold towards me since you got here, but I don’t know why.
It’s probably just how she is dealing with the break up.’

Harry nodded in agreement, but in his mind he considered Ginny’s accusation that there might be
someone else. He had not lied to her when he had denied such a thing, but he was slowly becoming
aware of the possibility that he might want there to be someone else, and that someone was his
friend sitting beside him now, looking beautiful in her simple dress and bare feet.

*I can’t go there*. Not so soon after Ginny. Besides, she is your best friend. You can’t
risk that – not for anything. It occurred to him then that perhaps Ginny’s coldness towards
Hermione wasn’t just as a result of the break up. Perhaps she sensed his growing feeling of
attraction towards Hermione. *Another reason to keep a lid on this*.

‘You’re probably right. I hope she comes round soon.’

They both turned their heads as another footfall could be heard on the path. Ron was
approaching, carrying a glass of beer in his hand.

‘I was wondering where you two had got to, I’ve been trying to get the three of us together all
day. I wanted to see if we had time to have a chat about…well, you know what.’ He looked around for
eavesdroppers as he said this.

Harry smiled at his friend. ‘Not here, Ron. And not now. I’m enjoying myself too much today to
think about it. How about we wait until after the wedding, and then we can go over everything?’

‘Sounds reasonable,’ Ron replied.

‘Good,’ answered Harry. ‘I have a lot to tell you both and I would rather do it without
distraction.’ He laughed suddenly and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to a Voldemort free weekend!’

Ron and Hermione laughed and joined in his toast. Harry looked fondly at his two friends. It
felt good to be sitting here sharing a drink with them as if he was just another ordinary person on
his birthday. What would come would come and he couldn’t do anything to stop it, so for the moment
it was best if he enjoyed the peace while it lasted.

***********

Rufus Scrimgeour pulled on his robe and cast one last glance around his office. He was about to
head home for the evening after a very unfulfilling day. A crumpled copy of that day’s *Daily
Prophet* lay on his desk, the headline announcing the seventeenth birthday of Harry Potter. The
subsequent article was a re-hash of much of what had already been published over the years about
the boy, and also speculation on what the ‘Chosen One’ would do now that he had come of age. Rufus
thought that it must have been a slow news day for the story to have made the front page. He had
been aware that Potter was turning seventeen today but had not expected the fanfare that was being
made of the occasion. What the story had done, however, was confirm to Rufus that a decision was
needed from him on what to do about Harry Potter.

He had been informed that Harry had left his relatives house and was now staying with Arthur
Weasley and his family at their home. Whilst not having much contact with Weasley over the years,
he actually knew quite a bit about him as a result of the man’s close ties with Dumbledore. Rufus
was aware that many within the Ministry did not hold a particularly high opinion of Arthur, but he
himself was too canny to underestimate the man. Any person respected by Dumbledore was a person to
take seriously; whatever the general consensus of his peers. Weasley had a reputation for
simplicity and was considered something of a joke by many of the older families, despite the fact
that the Weasleys were one of the oldest pure-blood families in existence. But there had to be more
to him than that.

He had finally decided to offer to meet Harry and had confided his intention to only a few of
his closest advisors. He wanted to keep this offer as secret as possible as he feared a public
humiliation in the press if he was refused. Accordingly he had drafted a letter to Harry and only
had to come up with a suitable method of delivery. He did not trust even the Ministry owls as he
long suspected that there were areas of his Ministry that were infiltrated by the spies of
Voldemort. He had considered asking his aide, Percy Weasley, to deliver the letter but had
eventually decided against this. Percy was currently estranged from his family and if he suddenly
showed up at the door of his former home, people would notice and talk. There was also the fact
that Harry did not get on with Percy at the moment and this might prejudice him against a meeting
before he had even read the letter. So no, Percy Weasley was not an option.

He had mulled over this little conundrum for a few hours before reaching a conclusion.
Eventually he had discreetly called a close friend and former colleague from the Auror Division and
had asked him to deliver the message. His friend had not been too perturbed by the strange request
– he had become used to handling delicate assignments for the Minister over the years. Rufus had
asked his friend to deliver the letter to Harry Potter at the Burrow first thing tomorrow morning.
He had also instructed him to await a response from Harry and to make the necessary arrangements if
he said yes. He had not even bothered to stress the clandestine nature of the mission – his friend
was well aware that he was not to discuss Ministerial business with anyone.

So that was as far as he could go at the moment. He had made the overture to Potter and the
matter was now out of his hands. He did not like ceding control of a situation to anyone, but
desperate times called for desperate measures. He headed off home, tired after a stressful day, but
aware that he would not enjoy the benefit of a good nights sleep when so much of importance was
left unresolved

******

Almost 600 miles to the north of the Ministry building in London, Lord Voldemort stood in front
of the bay window in the drawing room of the manor he was currently using as his headquarters,
enjoying the spectacular sunset that was visible on the horizon. He was alone; save for his pet
Nagini, who skulked in the corner.

The house was situated on the North West coast of Scotland and was an ideal location for his
purposes owing to its remoteness and inaccessibility. He had purchased the property more than
twenty five years before but had ensured that no trail could lead anyone to conclude that he was
the owner. That this secrecy had required the deaths of one or two inconvenient agents was neither
here nor there to the Dark Lord, and he often congratulated himself on securing such a fine base
that no one outside of his immediate circle was aware of. Despite all these advantages however,
what appealed most to him about the location was the view afforded from this very spot. As far as
the eye could see were the towering cliffs that were a feature of this part of the world, and he
enjoyed watching the sea crash against them in the never ending battle between two seemingly
impenetrable forces of nature. Of course, intellectually he knew that the waves would win in the
end; finally bringing down these cliffs after millennia of struggle. It was a slow process, but
eventually the sea always won; its relentless force ensuring victory.

He smiled at the thought. He likened his own struggle to the battle being played out before his
eyes. He knew he was also destined to be victorious. He too was a relentless force and eventually
the cliffs and crags of magical Britain would finally succumb to his will. When that happened,
nothing would stand in his way. He had taken steps to ensure that he would be alive to witness the
final victory of the sea before him – however long it took.

He was somewhat perplexed at the moment, however, at the recent activity from the Ministry. He
had always known that Scrimgeour was a tougher opponent than that old fool Fudge, but he had not
fully appreciated just how formidable an enemy the old Auror was going to be. Anyone who could
impose the emergency powers in the way he had – even to the extent of executing some of his very
own Death Eaters - was someone worthy of his respect. This change in policy; allied to the surprise
death of Albus Dumbledore, had caused him to review his strategy and as a result, there had not
been much activity from either he or his Death Eaters for a while now. He knew that his followers
were becoming impatient, but was well aware that a false move now could ruin everything.

*Let them wait.*

A noise behind him suddenly interrupted his reverie, much to his annoyance. He sighed.

‘Yes, Wormtail? What is it that brings you here to disturb your master? I have warned you before
of the consequences of disturbing my privacy.’

‘My most humble apologies, my lord,’ Wormtail replied, ‘but Snape is here and requested an
audience.’ Wormtail looked askance at the snake in the corner; he had never felt comfortable around
the Dark Lord’s pet.

Voldemort finally turned at these words. He looked down at the weakling before him and did not
attempt to conceal his contempt.

‘I am well aware of his presence, fool! Do you so easily forget that Lord Voldemort knows all
about his servants?’

Wormtail cowered before his master, his silver arm raised above his head as if to protect
him.

‘Please, master. I only seek to serve. I have your best interests at heart my lord. I would
never do anything to cause offence.’

‘Indeed? I shall remember that, Wormtail.’ There was a hint of humour in his tone. ‘Please lead
him in – we cannot be seen to keep our guests waiting,’ he added, mockingly.

Wormtail left the room, returning a few moments later in the company of Snape who was, as ever,
dressed entirely in black. His normal cold exterior was betrayed by a barely concealed glint in his
eyes. Wormtail backed out of the room, bowing low to his master.

‘Ah, Severus. What is it that brings you to see me today?’ asked the Dark Lord.

‘Information, master,’ replied Snape. ‘Information of the highest importance. I have learned
from a trusted source that Scrimgeour has requested a meeting with Harry Potter tomorrow night. If
Potter agrees, we have the time and place of the rendezvous.’

Voldemort did not reply immediately. This indeed was news of importance and he could sense the
excitement in his normally stern lieutenant. He regarded Snape for a moment. He had always found
him the hardest of his supporters to read and as a result had always been wary of his motives. This
of course was no longer an issue. After killing Dumbledore, there could be no doubt about the man’s
loyalties. He decided to indulge him for a moment.

‘It is indeed momentous news, Severus. Have you any suggestions?’

‘It is not my place to presume to know my master’s designs,’ replied Snape.

‘I know that, Severus – it is one of the reasons I give you so much responsibility. But your
master commands you to answer this time. Do not worry; you shall not be punished for giving your
opinion, when asked.’

‘Thank you, master. I would suggest that this information be handled carefully. If we decide to
act upon it then we risk exposing our source. Of course, I have no personal interest in her fate,
but we could lose a valuable asset if we act and are not successful. On the other hand, a source is
of no use to us if we cannot use the information to our advantage. I believe that in this instance,
the reward justifies the risk. If we can eliminate both Potter and Scrimgeour, we will strike a
heavy blow against our enemies and the safety of the source will not be an issue.’

‘A good answer, Severus, I see that you are a man to be watched!’ Lord Voldemort laughed. ‘That
is exactly my own thoughts on the matter. A source is of no use if we cannot act upon the
information received. This is too good an opportunity to miss – Potter and Scrimgeour together. If
I can eliminate them then nothing will stand in my way. Prepare a plan, Severus, and brief me in
when you are finished. You have three hours. Do not inform anyone of this.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ replied Snape. He bowed low and backed out of the room, never for an
instant letting his guard down. He proceeded to his room and only when he was finally behind the
locked door did he relax.

*Now what the hell do I do?* He thought to himself.



4. Meetings and Mayhem
----------------------

**Chapter 4 – Meetings and Mayhem**

**Friday 1st August 1997**

Harry sat at the kitchen table and tried to rouse himself to face the new day. Molly had
insisted that everyone rise early today as this was the last opportunity to finalise the
preparations for the wedding. As a result, he was surrounded by a number of bleary eyed Weasleys as
he enjoyed his breakfast. And a bright eyed Hermione of course. It irked him sometimes that she
could be so full of life at such an ungodly hour.

He had taken a bit of stick from the others over the article in the *Daily Prophet*. It was
good natured teasing, to be fair, as they all knew his feelings on unwanted publicity.
Nevertheless, it was not the best way to start the day.

His musings were interrupted abruptly by the sudden knocking on the front door. This in itself
was cause for surprise, as anyone who frequented the Burrow regularly knew that no one ever used
the front door; the kitchen door was the usual means of entry for everyone. Harry glanced over to
Arthur, who seemed a little perturbed by the sudden intrusion. Indeed, such was his delayed
reaction that it took a second bout of hammering on the door before he finally rose to open it. He
approached it with a seemingly nonchalant air, but Harry, who had followed discreetly with a few of
the others, noticed that his wand was held tightly in his right hand.

He opened the door and frowned in concentration at the person before him. It was obvious to
Harry that Arthur knew the face, but couldn’t quite put a name to it.

‘Hello, Arthur,’ said the man in a soft Scottish accent. ‘You probably don’t remember me, but we
crossed paths on one of your raids a few years ago. My name is Walsh – James Walsh. I work in the
Auror Division.’

Arthur’s face brightened a moment as the recognition kicked in. It was clear that he had dealt
with the man before. His expression changed back to its original stern look however, as he
contemplated the man in front of him.

‘I do remember you, Mr Walsh. A close confidante of the Minister, are you not? What can I do for
you?’ he asked. It was said politely, but there was a hint of steel in Arthur’s tone.

‘I understand that Harry Potter is living here at the moment. Might it be possible for me to
come in? I have a letter that I must deliver to him,’ replied the Auror.

Arthur’s expression, which had been quite frosty to begin with, now turned positively
Arctic.

‘If you could hand the letter to me, I will make sure that Harry gets it,’ he said.

‘Sorry, but I have instructions to both hand it personally to Mr Potter, and to await a reply.
It won’t take a moment. May I come in?’

Arthur hesitated a moment. Casting a quick glance to the others, he noticed with satisfaction
that virtually everyone had put their wands within easy reach, and were sitting ready. He turned
back to the visitor.

‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘Come in. Harry was just having his breakfast. I’m sure he will be happy
to see you.’

Walsh entered the house and proceeded to look around for Harry. He was a tall man of about
fifty; well built and with dark hair and eyes. His features were hard and he had one or two visible
scars on his face – presumably mementoes of previous battles. His eyes alighted on Harry and he
smiled. The effect was startling and seemed to take about 10 years off his age.

‘Mr Potter? How do you do?’ he extended his hand in greeting, an offer that Harry accepted
cautiously. ‘I have here a letter from the Minister of Magic that I have been instructed to deliver
to you personally. I hope you don’t mind, but I have been instructed to await a reply from you.’ As
he said this, he removed a brown envelope from his robes and handed it to Harry, who took it with a
great degree of suspicion.

*What did Scrimgeour want now?* Harry was tempted to refuse to read the letter, but his
innate good manners prevailed and he carefully opened the envelope.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to the room at large as he sat down and began to read.

*Dear Harry,*

*First of all, allow me to thank you for taking the time to read this. I know you do not have
a particularly high opinion of me or my Ministry, so I am grateful you were able to see past
this.*

*It is about our current relations that I am writing to you. I know that we have not been on
the most agreeable of terms recently and I am well aware that the fault for this lies largely with
me. Allow me to apologise. I hope that you will be able to give me the chance to make amends for
any offence I have caused you in the past.*

*The death of Albus has had a profound effect on us all, not least on me, who considered him a
friend, despite our differences. I am sure you are aware that the main cause of my recent dispute
with Albus was about you; and of my intentions towards you. I am only sorry that I was not able to
reconcile with him before his death. It is for this reason that I hope to reach an understanding
with you. The enemy grows ever stronger and we must work together if we are to achieve victory in
this struggle.*

*In view of this, I am proposing that we meet to discuss possible ways of assisting each
other. Please be assured that I offer this with no conditions. I do not expect you to endorse my
Ministry, nor do I intend to make our meeting public knowledge, unless you desire to do so. The
agenda will be yours, Harry. I know you may not trust me, but I implore you to put past differences
aside for the sake of the common cause. I give you my word that I will not attempt to use you or
your name for any political gain.*

*If you think you can put past differences aside and agree to my proposal, please let James
know as soon as you can. I would like to meet at your earliest convenience – indeed I propose we
meet tonight if possible. If you agree, James will notify you of the location.*

*Please consider my offer carefully, and accept once more my oath that I have no motive for
wanting this meeting other than the defeat of Voldemort.*

*With regards*

*Rufus*

Harry finished reading the letter and placed it on his lap. He did not know what to think. He
thought of his last encounter with Scrimgeour after the funeral, and the anger began to rise within
him. The man had some nerve, approaching him like this! After all he had tried to get Harry to do –
to be his poster boy no less – he now had the gall to propose a meeting! He was about to rise and
flatly refuse the offer, but he suddenly remembered the letter he had received from Dumbledore. The
letter that had urged him to seek the help of the Ministry. Harry did not know what to do. He
looked up and realised that everyone was watching him in anticipation. He came to a decision.

‘Mr Walsh? Would you mind excusing me for a few moments? I would like to discuss this matter
with some of my friends here. I’m sure Mrs Weasley will offer you a cup of tea and some breakfast
if you wish. I will not be long.’ Without waiting for a reply he turned to the others.

‘Ron? Hermione? Would you come next door with me please?’ he hesitated a moment before
continuing. ‘You too, Mr Weasley, if you don’t mind. I would value your opinion.’

Arthur seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. ‘Of course, Harry. Mr Walsh? Please excuse us,’
he said, before leading the three friends into the next room.

Once Harry had closed the door behind them he turned to the others. Rather than beginning a long
explanation, he handed the letter to Arthur, who began to read; Ron and Hermione doing likewise
over his shoulders. Harry paced the room impatiently, waiting for them to finish.

‘Well, Harry,’ began Arthur, once he had finished, ‘I don’t know what to say. The request seems
reasonable enough – it’s just a question of whether you trust him or not. For what its worth;
whilst I haven’t always seen eye to eye with Rufus, I have always found him to be a man of his
word. Of course, I do not know what help he may be able to offer, or indeed what help you may want
from the Ministry. That of course is something for you to decide.’

Harry looked at his two friends, a question on his face.

‘I agree, Harry’ said Ron. ‘Scrimgeour has been a bit of a pain in the arse recently, but if you
think the offer may be genuine, then he could probably help us.’

‘Hermione?’

‘I’m not sure, Harry.’ She looked thoughtful, and cast a glance at Arthur before continuing. ‘I
mean, how much would you be willing to tell him? How much assistance could he actually give us? Of
course, it might be worth agreeing to see him just to see what he has to say for himself. If it’s
just the same old tripe then you can tell him to back off.’

Harry nodded thoughtfully, glad he had decided to ask his friends before making any rash
decisions.

‘I agree. It probably won’t hurt to see him again. But his attitude had better improve if he
wants me to remain civil to him.’ He turned to Arthur. ‘Mr Weasley? Do you think you could ask Mr
Walsh to come through?’

Arthur nodded his assent and left the room. A few moments later he returned with James Walsh.
Harry began without preamble.

‘Mr Walsh? You may inform the Minister that I agree to his request. I am quite willing to meet
him to hear his proposals.’

James nodded in acknowledgment. ‘The Minister will be glad to hear this, Mr Potter. I will
notify him immediately.’

‘He said in his letter that you would inform me of the arrangements for the meeting if I
agreed,’ said Harry.

‘Yes, he instructed me to do so. He proposes to meet tonight at seven-thirty in the Shrieking
Shack.’ Harry raised an eyebrow at this. ‘A strange meeting place, I admit,’ continued James, ‘but
one that will not attract attention. The Minister does not want this meeting to be public.’

‘In that case I agree,’ replied Harry. ‘I will admit that the meeting place inspires confidence
that the Minister is true to his word. A more unlikely location would be hard to find. Please tell
him that I will be there at seven-thirty.’ He was aware that he was sounding very formal and
pompous, and also noticed that Ron was aware of this too, judging by the repressed snickers. He
struggled to maintain his composure.

James nodded in acceptance. ‘Thank you, Mr Potter. I will pass on your reply immediately. The
Minister will see you tonight.’ He turned to Arthur. ‘Please thank your wife for the hospitality.
Good day to you all.’

He turned to leave and Arthur hastily followed to escort him to the door. Once they had gone,
Harry turned to the others.

‘Come on you two – we have a lot to discuss,’ he said, before leading them up the stairs to
Ron’s room.

***********

Severus Snape stood in the middle of a thick bush in the forest, a mere thirty yards from the
Shrieking Shack, and wondered if his life could get any worse. It was six-thirty and he and a group
of ten Death Eaters were concealed at various locations around the Shack. He had laid his plans
before Voldemort and the Dark Lord had approved, making only one or two minor alterations.
Voldemort himself would be joining them soon once the time for the meeting was reached. Everything
was set.

For about the thousandth time since being given the mission, he cursed Scrimgeour’s stupidity.
He had always respected the ex-Auror as a man who made few mistakes, but he now believed that
politics had affected the man’s judgement. The Minister clearly thought he was being clever by
arranging to meet Potter in such an obscure location, but he obviously did not realise that it was
never a good idea to be without a plan B. The security for this meeting depended entirely on the
location being kept a secret. Once that secrecy was blown, the location was extremely vulnerable to
attack – as Scrimgeour would soon find out.

Snape knew that Scrimgeour had opted for secrecy as a political consideration. If he had made
public his desire for a meeting and Potter had refused with his usual arrogance, then the Minister
would have been open to ridicule. *Better that that death though.* Snape knew that if he had
been in the same situation, he would have made the meeting as public as possible and would have
surrounded the location with every available Auror in the country. He would also have held it in a
much safer location; beyond the reach of the Dark Lord. *Patagonia, perhaps.* *Or
Antarctica.*

He had been required to be at his most cunning in order to obey Voldemort, and yet leave room
for the mission’s failure. He had originally considered not informing Voldemort of the meeting, but
he had learned that the source had also informed Bella. After discovering that, there was no
question of saying nothing. Instead, he had placed a flaw in the plan that he hoped would prove
sufficient.

His train of thought was disturbed by a sudden noise coming from the trees about twenty yards to
his left. *That will be the flaw*, he thought ruefully. He had deliberately included a young,
incompetent Death Eater in his plans – he just hoped the boy could live up to his lack of
expectation. If not, he would have to ‘help’ the youngster to commit some blunder. He would have to
be extremely subtle however; the merest hint of his sabotage would mean his death. For now, all he
could do was wait and hope that things turned out to his satisfaction. He glanced around to check
the location of his colleagues and noted that they were all well concealed – even Draco. The boy
had been very subdued since Dumbledore’s death and Snape had hardly seen anything of him. He knew
that Draco was just trying to stay out of the Dark Lord’s way in an attempt to go unnoticed, but he
was also aware that such a strategy was futile. The Dark Lord forgot nothing, and Draco would find
this out sooner or later – to his cost, if he were not careful.

With a deep sigh, Snape returned to his watch, hoping for once that his planning would not lead
to success.

************

Twenty yards away from his former Potions professor, Draco Malfoy lay hidden behind the long
grass that was a feature of the forest edge and considered his options. He had not been the same
person since that fateful night on the Astronomy Tower and he was still struggling to come to terms
with events. He had discovered – to his relief if he was honest with himself – that he was not cut
out to be a murderer. He knew he was no angel – indeed there were depths to which he would plumb –
but it seemed that murder was not one of them. Dumbledore had been correct in his assertion; he was
not a killer.

Which left him with a problem, he knew. The Dark Lord still numbered him amongst his Death
Eaters, but it would not be long before his true nature won out. What he would do when asked to
kill again he did not know. He did know that the Dark Lord would kill him if he failed him again
though. The only reason he was still alive at the moment was because Snape had killed the
Headmaster after he had failed to do so. It had been his plan that had breached the school defences
and it was made clear to him that this had proven sufficient to spare him. He knew that there would
be no second chance.

He had no one to confide in though, and this was his great dilemma. Speaking to his father was,
of course, out of the question. His father was still numbered among the Dark Lord’s leading
servants, although his prestige was somewhat tarnished these days. At least this now meant that he
did not strut around as if he owned the place.

His mother had been another matter however. He had tentatively broached the subject with her and
could have sworn he detected a hint of sympathy in her eyes. This *is the life we have chosen,
Draco, and there is no going back. One does not resign from serving the Dark Lord,* was all
she’d had to say on the matter. Which was no use at all.

And now here he was on another mission of murder. Thankfully there were enough attackers present
for him to take a back seat. He would not have to kill today; indeed, they were queuing up to be
the one that fired *this* particular killing curse.

*Potter.*

He despised Potter more than any person alive, save one, but he knew that he still didn’t want
to be the one to kill him. Indeed, if he were honest with himself, he didn’t actually want Potter
to die. This realisation - which he had come to some weeks ago – had shaken him to the core. The
reason that he wanted Potter to live was simple; he seemed to be the only one who had a chance to
defeat the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord *was* the person he despised more than any other. And
until he was defeated, Draco would never be free.

So whilst privately willing Potter to escape the ambush, Draco nonetheless kept perfectly hidden
and prepared to do his master’s bidding. He did not want Potter to die, but feared the consequences
of failure more. He knew that he would just have to play along until his chance came.

*If it ever came.*

********

Harry paced the floor of the Shrieking Shack and tried to run over in his head what he would say
to the Minister. He glanced at his watch; seven-twenty, still ten minutes to go. He’d had a lengthy
discussion with Ron and Hermione that afternoon and had gone over a number of things he had
originally wanted to keep to himself until after the wedding. He had shown them the letter from
Dumbledore urging him to meet with Rufus and this fact seemed to have fully convinced Hermione.

*‘Dumbledore must have known something, Harry. He wouldn’t have asked you to trust Scrimgeour
unless he believed he could help you.’ She had paused for a moment before continuing. ‘Just how
much are you intending to tell him?’*

*‘As little as possible,’ Harry had replied. ‘Nothing about the Horcruxes anyway. Or the Order
for that matter. In fact, I’m telling him nothing. I’m meeting him more out of curiosity than
anything else. I have been wondering if he has anything new to say to me.’*

That little thought had been niggling at Harry all afternoon. What could Scrimgeour possibly
have to say to him that he had not already broached in previous encounters? Harry did not like the
man; he found him arrogant and stubborn. It occurred to him that perhaps they were too alike to get
on with each other.

He smiled at the thought, but his reflections were interrupted by a quiet pop and a scuffling
sound from behind him. Turning to face the noise, Harry raised his wand, aware that whoever it was
had arrived early, but was relieved to see that only the Minister stood before him. He relaxed, but
did not fully lower his wand. Instead, the two men stood looking at one another. Finally, Rufus
broke the silence.

‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Harry. I appreciate it could not have been an easy decision
for you.’

Harry merely nodded in response, before peering behind the Minister to see if anyone else was
there.

‘Are we alone?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Harry, we are. No one here but the two of us. I have instructed my personal guard to
remain in Hogsmeade.’

Harry nodded in appreciation. He finally lowered his wand and looked Rufus in the eye.

‘So, Minister, how can I help you?’ he asked.

Rufus did not respond immediately. Instead he walked over and sat down in a chair next to a
small table. There was a second chair facing it and it occurred to Harry that they must have been
placed here earlier today. Rufus indicated that Harry should take the other seat, which he did.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, the older man reached into his inside pocket and removed a
letter. He considered it carefully for a few seconds before handing it to Harry.

Harry recognised the writing paper immediately. His thoughts racing, he opened the envelope and
had his suspicions confirmed when he saw the familiar sloping handwriting of his old Headmaster. He
looked up at Scrimgeour, seeking permission and the man nodded his approval. With a shaking hand,
Harry began to read the letter.

Once he had finished he leaned back in his chair and looked directly at the Minister. He was at
a complete loss for words, so in response, he reached into his pocket and produced his own letter
from Dumbledore. He carefully placed both letters on the table.

Rufus nodded, as if expecting exactly this. ‘Might I enquire as to the contents of your letter,
Harry?’

‘Not the details, but the gist of it states that I should seek you out and request your help.’
He paused for a moment, the implications beginning to sink in. ‘Isn’t it remarkable that Dumbledore
can still manipulate us? Even from the grave?’

Rufus smiled at this. ‘Dumbledore was a remarkable man, Harry. I should think that nothing is
beyond him. So the question now facing us is whether or not you want my help?’

Harry carefully lifted his letter from the table, the action giving him some time to frame his
response. ‘What’s in it for you? What do you want in return?’ he finally asked.

‘Nothing. This is a no strings offer, Harry.’

Harry arched his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Why should I believe that? You have been trying to get
me to support the Ministry for a while now. What’s changed your mind?’

‘Dumbledore’s death changed my mind, Harry. Whether you accept my help or not all comes down to
whether you choose to believe me, so allow me to explain a few things to you. It is true that I did
not always see eye to eye with Albus, particularly where you were concerned. He was fiercely
protective of you and was always looking out for you. I hope you are aware of that?’

Harry nodded.

‘That’s good to know. Anyway, despite this, I always had the utmost respect for Albus. He taught
me too and I consider him to be the finest wizard I ever knew. It is true that he disagreed with
many of my policies – I shudder to think of what he would have made of the emergency powers – but
ultimately we were on the same side. He has made a last request of me, Harry; I’d like to think
that I was enough of a man to carry out such a request,’ he concluded simply.

‘He’s not the only one that disagreed with your policies. You can count me amongst that group
too. It’s why I have always refused to co-operate with you in the past. The Ministry has hardly
made things easy for me.’

‘I know and I’m sorry. Will you let me make amends now?’

‘I don’t know. I still disagree with what you are doing. Why restrict freedoms? Why execute
people? It’s wrong.’

Rufus sighed. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I am not too comfortable about the situation
myself. But things are rarely as simple as just being right or wrong.’

‘Yes they are. Dumbledore taught me that.’

‘Dumbledore was unique, Harry, and for all his power he never took on the responsibility of
office. The world is not black and white; it’s more of a shade of grey. Sometimes the choice open
to us is merely the lesser of two evils. I had a decision to make – either I continued as we were
following a policy that would almost certainly lead us to defeat, or I introduced changes that
would at least give us a chance. I don’t like the restrictions any more than you do, but the
difference is that if I am wrong we could lose everything. It is easy to criticise when you have no
responsibility. Dumbledore taught *me* that. It was not a decision taken lightly, I can assure
you. Now, can you put that aside and allow me to help you?’

Harry looked the older man directly in the eye. It occurred to him that there were many reasons
to decline the offer, but one very good reason for accepting. Dumbledore wanted him to do this.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but only on certain conditions.’

‘What conditions?’

‘That you don’t ask me what I am doing. That you give me what you ask for, if you can, without
trying to find out what I am up to. If I am successful, then you will be amongst the first to know.
If you don’t agree, or go back on your word then I am gone.’

Rufus considered this for a moment. ‘I think I can agree to that request. What do you need?’

Harry had been thinking about that since he had read Scrimgeour’s letter that morning. ‘I need
to disappear.’

‘Disappear?’

‘Yes. There is something I must do. Something Dumbledore asked me to do. A last request, if you
will. But in order to have a chance I must be able to act without interference from Voldemort’s
forces. I will not be returning to Hogwarts next term, but as soon as my absence is noted,
Voldemort will be after me. In the meantime, I am worried that he might attack the Burrow in order
to get to me and I don’t want my friends put in danger. I have been thinking about this all summer
but I still haven’t come up with a solution.’

Rufus looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It would be impossible to make you disappear, Harry, you
are too well known for that. I could provide you with a safe house but that would not stop people
looking for you and the press would constantly speculate on your whereabouts. I can only control
them so much.’

‘So we are snookered then?’ asked Harry. ‘If I go back to school I can’t achieve anything. If I
go missing then…’ Harry stopped in mid-sentence as two things happened almost at once. A sudden,
loud crash could be heard from outside; then his scar started to irritate him. His eyes widened as
he watched the Minister rise from his seat and raise his hand.

‘Quiet!’ hissed Rufus. ‘Someone is outside.’

The two men gingerly made their way to a crack in the side of the Shack in order to peer into
the evening light. Dark figures could be seen approaching from the trees.

‘Can you Apparate Harry?’ asked Rufus quietly.

Harry nodded, and watched as Rufus concentrated a moment before looking suddenly grave.

‘Anti-Apparition charm,’ whispered the ex-Auror. ‘Someone knows we are here.’ He looked quite
calm as he considered his options. Suddenly, a muffled voice could be heard and with a loud crash,
the two men were blasted back ten feet into the table and chairs they were sitting at a few moments
before. Both rose to their feet, shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Harry clutched his wand and
prepared to fight this unseen foe.

‘It’s Voldemort!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can feel him.’

‘No good, Harry,’ said Rufus as he pulled Harry’s wand hand down. ‘There’s at least a dozen of
them, and if Voldemort is here, we have no chance.’

Harry ignored Rufus and crawled back towards the crack in the wall - which had now been widened
considerably to a hole of about three feet - and peered out.

‘They’re coming. We have to get out of here. Harry! Come here, right now. Move!’ shouted
Rufus.

Harry scrambled over to Rufus, wondering what the man had in mind. His scar was really beginning
to hurt now and he tried to concentrate on closing his mind. He had no idea what they were going to
do. He could hear someone shouting from outside but could not make out a word as his ears were
still ringing from the blast. He looked at Rufus who appeared to come to a decision.

‘Sukey!’ exclaimed Rufus. Suddenly, with a loud pop, a small house elf appeared in their midst.
She was dressed – as many of her kind – in a ragtag collection of tea-towels and pillowcases and
her eyes widened as she took in the scene. She was smaller than Dobby, but slightly rounder.

‘Sukey, take us to my office. Now! Right now!’

Sukey did not hesitate, and Harry felt his arm being grabbed by the little elf. Just as they
were about to Apparate, he heard another muffled curse from outside and suddenly the whole building
seemed to be coming in around them. As he began to sense the familiar pull of Apparition, he felt a
searing heat on his face and raised his arm to protect himself before the darkness enveloped
him.

*********

Severus Snape checked his watch; seven-thirty two. They should both be in the Shack now and it
was time to launch the attack. The Dark Lord had arrived a few moments before and was now in
command of the operation. Snape just hoped that Scrimgeour had not lost all of his wits. He knew he
could not rely on Potter’s luck. Instead, the survival instincts of the old Auror were all he had
to go on.

He glanced over to his lord and saw him give a small nod of confirmation. Creeping silently from
his hideout, he gestured with his right arm for the others to advance. He glanced over to where
Marcus Flint was emerging from his concealment. *One, two three…*

CRASH!

Exactly as planned, the idiot boy stumbled on a tree root that Snape had noticed on arrival. It
was perfectly positioned; partly concealed and right in front of a pile of deadwood. Snape had made
sure that the boy had been placed exactly behind the obstacle as he knew that the young fool would
do exactly as he had just done. Tripped on the root and crashed into the deadwood with enough noise
to awaken the dead. Snape was aware that Potter could sense the Dark Lord when he was feeling
strong emotions. His plan had been to anger his master and so alert Potter to his presence. If it
did not work then at least Scrimgeour would have a warning now as a result of the noise. It was not
much, but the best he could improvise under the circumstances.

He scurried over to Flint and helped him to his feet. ‘Idiot boy!’ he hissed. ‘They will have
heard you.’

He turned to his right as he heard Bella utter a curse and blast a hole in the side of the
shack. From his position he was concealed by the foliage and once the smoke had cleared could see
right into the Shack. He noticed Potter peer out of the hole and turn to speak to (he presumed)
Scrimgeour. He turned to his right again as he watched the Dark Lord advance. *Get out you fools.
Get out.*

‘Potter!’ roared Voldemort. ‘Your death is sixteen years overdue! You are soon to discover what
fate awaits those who dare to challenge the might of Lord Voldemort!’ The Dark Lord seemed to
consider his options for a moment. Snape turned back to the Shack.

*Thank Merlin,* he thought, as he noticed the presence of a small house elf through the
smouldering hole. He watched as the elf took Potter and Scrimgeour in her arms just as the Dark
Lord cast his final curse. Transfixed, Snape could see the red streak fly towards the shack and,
just as it impacted with devastating results, he lost sight of the three shadowy figures. He had no
time to confirm if they had escaped in time as the Shack was blasted into pieces and he threw
himself to the ground to avoid the worst of the impact.

He still kept the presence of mind to place the trembling form of Marcus Flint between himself
and the shockwave.

***********

Hermione stood in a small clearing in some trees about a quarter of a mile from the Shrieking
Shack and worried about Harry. She was accompanied by Ron, Lupin and Moody in her vigil but no one
seemed inclined to break the silence that had descended upon them since arriving over an hour ago.
She had originally wanted to accompany Harry to the meeting, but he had been adamant that he go
alone. Scrimgeour had wanted to meet with him and he thought that it was best if there were no
distractions.

So she had insisted on at least accompanying him to Hogsmeade. He had not demurred but had
himself insisted that she not go alone, with the upshot being this small ‘guard’ that stood waiting
impatiently in the woods. Moody had picked the spot after Hermione had originally suggested waiting
in the village.

‘Constant Vigilance!’ the old Auror had barked at her suggestion. ‘This is a secret meeting, so
we must remain hidden. Besides, if anyone intends to gatecrash this particular party, it would be
best if they did not know we were here.’

Hermione had conceded the logic so now waited in the woods. She looked at her watch; seven
thirty three. Scrimgeour should have arrived by now. She turned to speak to Ron but froze suddenly
on the spot. She had a sudden, dreadful sense of foreboding.

‘I think something’s wrong!’ she hissed. ‘Harry could be in trouble.’

It was at this moment that a loud crash could be heard from the direction of the Shack. All four
heads turned to the source of the noise and saw with horror a black robed figure being helped to
his feet by another, similarly clad person.

‘That’s Snape!’ hissed Lupin. ‘I’d recognise that scumbag anywhere.’

Hermione felt her heart in her mouth as she counted at least a dozen Death Eaters advancing on
the Shack. She recognised one of them as Draco Malfoy and she felt the rage well up inside her.
Then she saw one of them let off a blasting curse and she watched in horror as it struck the wall
and the building shook at the impact. She tried to Apparate up the hill but couldn’t.

‘They must have set Anti-Apparition wards!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can’t get up there!’ She made to
charge up the hill towards the Shack but was stopped by a vice like grip on her cloak.

‘Let me go!’ she screamed as she turned to face the coward who was preventing her from helping
Harry. She realised that it was Moody who held her back and that with his other hand he was
desperately trying to stop Ron and Lupin too.

‘No!’ he hissed at the three of them. ‘Look; it’s Voldemort. We cannot attack. We will be
slaughtered. There is too many of them and we will not cover the distance in time. They will pick
us off before we get near them. We have to get help.’

‘But Harry needs us!’ pleaded Hermione. ‘We can’t leave him up there to die. We have to help
him.’

‘Getting yourself killed on a fool’s errand will not help Harry. This is not the time for
gestures, and that is all your death will be if you try to attack now. You might even provoke Harry
into a mistake by trying to save you, because that is what you will need if you attack – saving. We
must hope that Harry can get out without us. Now, come on! We have to get help. There will be
Aurors around somewhere – Scrimgeour will not have come alone.’

Hermione made to retort scathingly but her attention was diverted as Voldemort himself
approached the Shack. He paused ominously for a moment as if considering his options. Then, with a
sudden flourish, a jet of red light streaked from his wand and crashed into the side of the Shack.
The impact was devastating – with a boom that could be heard for miles the shack was blown to
pieces and was engulfed in a fireball.

Hermione screamed as she watched the still smoking debris fall to the ground.



5. Resurrection
---------------

Before the story continues, I would just like to say a big ‘thank you’ to everyone who has taken
the time and trouble to post a review. I have never attempted anything like this before so all
comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated. It is gratifying to know that there are readers
out there who are enjoying the story.

Best regards

BF

**Chapter 5 – Resurrection**

**Saturday 2nd August 1997**

Harry awoke with a groan and peered up to a brightly lit ceiling. His mouth was parched and his
head felt like someone was hammering on the inside of his skull. He groped instinctively to his
right and fumbled around for a bit until he secured his glasses. Putting them on, he gingerly sat
up. He found himself sitting in a large, well lit and extremely well furnished room. He was
entirely nonplussed at discovering this.

*Where the hell am I?*

As if in response to his unspoken question, a door to his left swung open and Rufus entered,
accompanied by a house elf. *Sukey, wasn’t it?*

‘Good morning, Harry,’ said Rufus, with a smile. ‘Glad to see you are back in the land of the
living. How are you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve drank two bottles of Firewhisky. Where am I?’

‘In a Ministry safe house. We brought you here last night after the…unpleasantness. I’m sorry if
our medical attention has not been of the standard you are used to, but it was the best we could
do. Here, take this.’ He indicated to a goblet that was being offered by Sukey. ‘It’s just a
painkilling potion, Harry. It will make you feel better.’

Harry took the goblet and drained the potion in one. He felt better immediately and reckoned to
himself that being a wizard definitely had some advantages.

‘What happened?’

‘Well, you know about the attack obviously. If it had not been for Sukey here, we would have
both been scattered over about ten square miles of Scotland. House elves are not affected by
Anti-Apparition charms; it’s part of their magic, so Sukey was able to pull us both out just in
time. We had a bumpy landing though; and you cracked your head on a rather sturdy ottoman I have in
my office. It was a gift from the Austrian Minister. I never did like the blasted thing,’ he added,
with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry was not in the mood for levity at that point, so ignored the Minister’s jest.

‘Why bring me here?’

‘Ah! That’s the clever bit, Harry. What did you say you wanted me to help you with?’

‘To disappear.’

‘Exactly! You are now officially disappeared. Everyone thinks you are dead.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Everyone thinks you are dead, Harry. No one saw you get out of the Shack before it blew up. You
don’t exist anymore. Here; take a look at this.’ He handed Harry a copy of the *Daily
Prophet*. Harry looked at the headline, aghast.

**Boy Who Lived Lives No More!**

*In an attack last night that can only be described as a catastrophe for the magical
community, Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived – was killed by You-Know-Who.*

*Potter had been waiting in the Shrieking Shack for a meeting with person or persons unknown
to this reporter when he was cruelly attacked by You-Know-Who, supported by approximately twelve
Death Eaters. In the resulting battle, the Shack was completely destroyed with Potter still inside.
No remains have yet been discovered, but it has been confirmed by several witnesses that no one
escaped prior to the destruction.*

*In a short statement issued late last night, Minister Scrimgeour has confirmed that several
Aurors who were performing guard duties in Hogsmeade witnessed the attack but were unable to reach
the scene in time. ‘There can be no doubt that this is a grievous loss to the magical community. Mr
Potter provided hope for many and his death is to be much regretted,’ added the Minister.*

*When asked why Potter was in the Shack, the Minister had no comment to make. ‘Speculation is
futile at the moment. There will be a full investigation and we will be speaking to Mr Potter’s
friends over the next few days. Enquiries are continuing.’*

*Continued on page 2…*

Harry didn’t bother reading any more. Instead he looked at the Minister, his face ashen.

‘Who knows?’ he finally managed to ask.

‘At the moment?’ replied Rufus. ‘You, me, Sukey and James Walsh. We had a hell of a job keeping
it quiet, but we managed. I’ve been up all night dealing with the fallout.’

‘But what about my friends? What do they know?’ exclaimed Harry.

‘They know nothing,’ said Rufus. Harry made to protest. ‘They know nothing at the moment, but we
will tell them,’ continued the older man.

‘But they will think I am dead. That’s…..that’s horrible.’

‘I know, but it can’t be helped. They will be informed as soon as possible, but it’s too soon
right now. I know it is hard for them – they have cancelled the Weasley wedding – but it is for the
best,’ he added, with a hint of steel in his voice.

Harry considered this. He imagined how he would feel if he thought Ron or Hermione were dead.
*Not good*. He would be devastated. It occurred to him that they would have witnessed the
whole thing. They must be feeling terrible at the moment. There was something else bothering him
though.

‘“Person or persons unknown”?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I was wondering when you would get to that. I couldn’t admit that I was there.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because if they thought I was there, then they would know I had escaped. If they knew I had
escaped then they would suspect that you may have gotten away too. They could only have seen you –
I Apparated in and did not go near the gap in the wall. There is no way they could confirm my
presence. They would have seen you though, after you rather conveniently stuck your head out of
that hole they blasted in the wall. Besides, how would I have looked if I said that I was there but
escaped and left you to die? There are possibly quicker ways to commit political suicide, but I
can’t think of any at the moment.’

Harry digested this information. It was cynical; it would be hard on his friends; but it made
sense and was necessary. One other thing though.

‘How did they know?’

Rufus’ expression hardened at this question.

‘They knew because there is a spy amongst my closest aides; and that spy informed them of the
time and place. There was less than twenty people who knew of the meeting - most of them Aurors –
and I told them all different times for the rendezvous. I only told two people the real time, and
one of them betrayed us.’

‘Who did you tell?’

‘James Walsh – and no, it was not him, Harry. I have known James for over thirty years and he is
like a brother to me. We were partners as young Aurors and he has saved my life more times than I
can count – and vice versa. It was not James.’

‘Who then?’

‘Dolores Umbrage.’

‘That foul hag! What are you going to do to her. When I get my hands on her…’ he left the
sentence unfinished, such was his anger.

‘I am going to do nothing. For the moment anyway.’

‘WHAT! How can you do nothing? She nearly got us killed!’

‘I know, Harry, but I can use this to my advantage. I know she is the spy, but she and Lord
Voldemort do not know that I know. From now on she will only tell her master what I want him to
hear. Do not worry – when this is over, I will deal with her myself.’

Harry thought about this for a moment. It made his blood boil but he could see the logic in
Rufus’ argument. Better to use the bitch than expose her. For now anyway.

‘OK. So what do I do now?’

‘You rest, Harry. Relax. There is an extensive library here – perhaps you want to do some
research? If not, there is plenty to amuse you. There are even some Muggle appliances to keep you
occupied. I will contact your friends soon and let them know, but not right away. And the fewer who
know, the better. Who can I tell?’

Harry’s reply was instantaneous.

‘Ron and Hermione.’

‘OK, Harry. I will do it soon. I will be in touch and you can decide what you want to do next.
Take your time – you have plenty of it now you are dead,’ Rufus said, with a wicked smile on his
face. ‘You might want to read your own obituary; it’s not many people who get to do that. Mark
Twain is the only one I am aware of,’ he added, before turning with a laugh, and leaving the
room.

Harry felt a stab of resentment at the older man’s jibes, but soon found himself seeing the
funny side of things. With a laugh, he picked up the newspaper and began to read.

**********

Severus Snape sat at the large table in the main hall of the manor Voldemort was using as his
hideout. He was joined by a score of his ‘colleagues’ as he waited for the arrival of the Dark
Lord. There was a noticeable buzz in the air as the group smugly considered the success of last
night’s mission. Only Snape remained aloof from the rest of the group but then only he knew of the
reality of the situation. He was as certain as a man could be that Potter and Scrimgeour had
escaped, but there was no way of confirming this at the moment. Time would tell on that score.

His musings were interrupted as the main doors swung open and the Dark Lord entered accompanied
by Nagini, with the snivelling Wormtail following close behind. It amused Snape to see how his
master treated the little fool. Wormtail was nothing more than a valet to the Dark Lord and all
knew it. He constantly humiliated the weaker man and made his life hell.

Snape stood along with everyone else and waited until his master was seated. Once Voldemort had
signalled his consent, they all sat down and awaited his pleasure.

‘Loyal servants! Today is a great day! I have finally rid myself of the Potter whelp and so
taken my revenge. I have proven to the world that no one can stand up to Lord Voldemort.’

There were murmurs of appreciation at these words, and one or two of the others banged their
fists on the table. Lord Voldemort held his hand up for silence, which was instantly achieved.

‘However, there are one or two matters that do not please me. Wormtail! The newspaper
please.’

In response to the order, Wormtail handed his master a copy of the *Daily Prophet* before
sidling back into the shadows.

‘It would appear that the mission was not a complete success. I had hoped to kill two birds with
one stone but it appears that we only managed to reap one. Our old friend Rufus was not there,
contrary to the information I was given. Would you care to explain, Severus?’

There was a bite to the tone, but Snape was unperturbed. He concentrated on keeping his mental
shields up. He knew that if the Dark Lord had wanted to punish him, he would have done it earlier
when he had first found out about Scrimgeour. Snape had thought the Minister would deny knowledge
of the meeting, but he hadn’t expected this tactic from the sly old dog. Snape knew that if
Scrimgeour escaped, then Potter had escaped too; which meant that they were faking his death.
*Clever.*

‘Master, the information I received was that the meeting was scheduled for seven-thirty. It
would seem that the Minister was delayed in travelling to the rendezvous – luckily for him. Our
source assured me that it was set for that time, and the presence of Potter seems to confirm the
veracity of the information. It was impossible for me to confirm Scrimgeour’s presence without
being discovered. I should have delayed the attack to allow for such contingencies. Please accept
my most humble apologies master.’ Snape bowed his head low.

Voldemort considered him for a moment before replying. Both Snape and the Dark Lord knew fine
well that the order to attack had come from Voldemort – could only have come from Voldemort - and
that Snape was taking the blame so his master did not have to.

‘No matter, Severus. The Minister’s time will come, have no fear of that. It is sufficient that
we have managed to remove Potter for the moment. But I will not tolerate such failure in future. Is
that clear?’

‘Yes, master. Thank you, master.’

‘What of the source, Severus? Is it blown?’

‘I do not think so, master. I believe that enough people knew of the meeting to complicate any
search for the leak. I would suggest that we do not use the source for a while though, as this
could lead to exposure.’

‘I agree, Severus,’ replied Voldemort. ‘And what of young Flint?’

‘I am sorry to say that he did not survive his wounds, master. The impact of the explosion
proved too much for him,’ replied Snape. That Flint had died was a relief to Snape. He was the only
other person who might have seen Scrimgeour. Had he not died, Snape would have had to kill him.

‘Sorry to say?’ exclaimed the Dark Lord. ‘He is lucky he did not survive. I would have made his
death much more prolonged and painful for making such a blunder.’ He looked around the table. ‘Rest
assured I would have crushed the young fool. Potter could have gotten away after being alerted like
that. I will not tolerate any such repetitions. From anyone,’ he added meaningfully.

Silence greeted these words as each person at the table was aware of the capricious nature of
their lord.

‘You may go,’ continued Voldemort. ‘I have much to ponder. I will call when I require your
presence.’

One by one, the Death Eaters filed out of the room. Snape chanced a look back at the Dark Lord
as he sat musing.

*Things were going to get interesting.*

***********

Hermione Granger lay on her bed and finally allowed the bitter tears of grief to fall down her
face. The feeling of shock that had overwhelmed her since the Shack had blown up had finally gone
and now she finally had to face up to the awful truth.

*Harry was dead.*

After the explosion, the attackers had quickly disappeared allowing her and the others to charge
up the hill in order to find Harry; but to no avail. They had found nothing amongst the debris to
indicate that he had even been there and Moody had quickly ordered them to leave when he had become
aware of the arrival of Ministry Aurors who had been stationed in Hogsmeade. She could not remember
leaving, being only vaguely aware of some strong arms holding her close before they had all
Apparated back to the Burrow.

She hadn’t lingered to hear Moody break the terrible news to the others; all she had done was to
quietly issue a curt instruction to Ron to say nothing of Harry’s mission before rushing upstairs
to her room in order to be alone. She had not cried then; it was as if her whole system had shut
down owing to an inability to accept the dreadful news. After a period of time – she did not know
how long – Molly had rapped her door and told her through her tears that there she had left a
sleeping draught on the other side of the door. She’d had to force herself to collect it and had
drained it quickly, praying for any kind of relief from this living nightmare.

It had done the trick as she had fallen asleep almost instantly, but the dawn had brought its
own misery.

When she woke, she was aware of a moment of pure peace before the crushing memory had kicked
in.

*Harry was dead.*

The acceptance of this fact had almost destroyed her. She had lain on her bed, still in the same
clothes as yesterday, and had wept the bitterest of tears as she began to examine the Harry shaped
hole in her life. And that examination had caused her to realise one simple truth.

She loved Harry.

Not as a friend; not as a brother; but loved him. She had loved him for a couple of years but
had subconsciously fought the feeling within her because she believed that it would not be
reciprocated. The realisation that this discovery of her love has come too late had broken her.

A number of people had come to her door to speak to her but she had refused to acknowledge them
– even Ron. He had come to inform her that Scrimgeour had not even been in the Shack but she hadn’t
wanted to listen. It was then that he had pushed a copy of the *Daily Prophet* under the door
for her to read.

Seeing the news in black and white had killed any lingering hope that she clung to. The stark,
harsh words merely served to confirm her worst nightmare.

*Harry was dead.*

Her isolation was broken by a short rap on her bedroom door.

‘Hermione?’

It was Ron. She did not want to speak to him right now. Indeed, she did not want to speak to
anyone.

‘Hermione? It’s me. Will you open the door? Please?’

She ignored him. She was well aware that he would be suffering too, but there was no room in her
heart for sympathy for anyone else at the moment. She doubted that there ever would be again.

‘I know how hard this is, Hermione, but we need to talk. We have to discuss what we were doing
before…’ he couldn’t bring himself to say it. ‘Look, it may be too soon to deal with the Horcruxes,
but we must think about it. I haven’t said anything to anyone yet, but I reckon we will have to
before long. Come and speak to me when you feel up to it. I need you.’

She heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs and fought against the tears that threatened
to burst forth from her again. Didn’t he realise that none of that mattered any more? That
Voldemort had won? That nothing she did from now on had any purpose or meaning? That the only thing
that mattered had happened and had now changed everything?

*Harry was dead.*

***********

**Sunday 3rd August 1997**

Ron Weasley sat at the kitchen table and poked at his breakfast with his fork. He had no
appetite at all, and had barely eaten anything since getting home on Friday night. He was still in
a state of disbelief about Harry’s death and was constantly expecting him to walk in the door as if
nothing had happened. He had shed a lot of tears at the loss of his friend and could not come to
terms with events. Even the postponement of the wedding yesterday seemed trivial in light of what
had happened.

After the Shack had blown up he had stood rooted to the spot. He had been aware of Hermione’s
screams but his brain could not make his limbs function. Moody had taken charge, for as soon as
Voldemort and his minions had Disapparated, he had led them to where the Shack had stood in a
fruitless search for Harry. But they had found nothing – not even a trace. It was as if he had
never been.

The arrival of Ministry Aurors had been the signal for them to disappear themselves and they had
come back to the Burrow; he numb with shock and Hermione seemingly incapable of functioning other
than to curtly order him to say nothing of Harry’s mission, before running upstairs to her room. He
hadn’t seen her since.

Moony had been ashen and had not been able to speak. It had been Moody who had broken the news
to everyone. The reactions had been predictable; unashamed grief.

The women had screamed at the news and their distress was heartbreaking to behold. Even his
father had broken down in tears at the news, before regaining his composure. He had taken charge,
ordering that the wedding be cancelled and that preparations be made for some sort of memorial
service. But then the realisation that there was not even a body to bury had hit home, causing yet
more tears.

For all the anguish of his family, however, the person Ron was most worried about was Hermione.
She seemed beyond grief; locking herself in her room and refusing to speak to anyone. He had tried
to comfort her but she had point blank refused to answer him. He was at a complete loss as to what
to do. He was feeling quite abandoned, a feeling that was made worse when Hedwig disappeared. He
had no idea where Harry’s owl had gone to.

Then the news had broken that Scrimgeour had not even been there. His claim that he knew nothing
of Harry’s intentions enraged him and he was still trying to decide how best to cut the man down.
Harry’s death had been for nothing and that old bastard had gotten away with it again. He had tried
to tell Hermione the news but she still wouldn’t open the door to him. Ginny had said that she had
only heard her leave the room twice; both times only to use the bathroom.

He was jolted from his despair by a sudden knocking on the front door. He looked around the
table at his brothers and father, who were also picking at their food. His dad stood and walked to
the door, making sure once again that all had their wands at the ready. When he opened it, he was
greeted by a familiar face.

‘Mr Walsh,’ said Arthur, the anger evident in his voice.

‘Hello, Arthur. Might I come in? This is important. Very important.’

Arthur considered his options for a moment before letting the man enter. ‘Alright, but this had
better be good. You have a nerve showing your face here.’

For his part, James Walsh was nervous as he entered the kitchen. He knew he could not expect a
warm welcome at this house, but the hatred in Arthur’s eyes was extremely disconcerting; and he
could feel the enmity of the others in the room. He had been told to ask Harry’s two friends to
accompany him to the Ministry, but Rufus had been shrewd enough to add a rider. His old friend had
told him that if the Weasleys were overly hostile, he could tell them the truth about Harry. They
would find out soon enough anyway, he had said with a smile. James decided to take the plunge.

‘Arthur, could you gather everyone who is close to Harry please? Everyone in the house you know
he trusts. No exceptions. I particularly need to speak to your son Ron and his friend Hermione
Granger.’

Arthur gave an odd look to James, but shrugged his shoulders and went off to fetch the others.
He came back a few minutes later with Molly, Ginny and surprisingly, Hermione.

She looked awful. Her hair was a mess, her eyes blotchy and red and her face swollen from the
tears. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d had on two days before and looked wretched. Her
normally lively eyes looked dead and she barely acknowledged the presence of the others. Ron had no
idea what his father had said to get her out of her room, but he was glad to see her, even if she
was a mess.

They all turned as Walsh cleared his throat.

‘Arthur? Do you think you could place a silencing charm on the room please?’ James noticed
Arthur look at him questioningly, and continued, with a smile. ‘I haven’t survived more than twenty
five years as an Auror by doing something as rash as pulling out my wand in a room full of hostile
people. Could you do the charm? Please?’

Arthur quickly – almost disdainfully - performed the charm, not once taking his eyes off James
as he did so.

James took a deep breath.

‘What I have to tell you must, and I mean must, remain in this room. I cannot stress to you
enough the sensitivity of the information. I had considered making you take the Unbreakable Vow,
but I believe your word will be sufficient. Do I have your word?’ he asked them.

They nodded, only Arthur spoke.

‘Yes, you have our word. Now would you please just get on with it?’ There was a hint of
exasperation in Arthur’s tone, but something else too – excitement.

James took it all in his stride.

‘Harry’s alive,’ he told them.

***********

Hermione Granger sat outside the office for the Minister of Magic, struggling to contain her
excitement. She was with Ron, and both were awaiting the arrival of Scrimgeour who had requested an
interview. Her mind was racing with a million thoughts and she was even having difficulty sitting
still, such was her current condition. The news brought to her by James Walsh had been so momentous
that she was still trying to come to terms with it. One minute she was so happy she could literally
jump for joy. The next she was furious with Harry for putting her through such an ordeal. That it
was probably not his choice was a minor detail as far as she was concerned.

‘*Harry’s alive,’* James had said. Two simple words that had changed her life.

The reaction to these words had been predictable. First incredulity; then realisation of the
truth; then bedlam. Walsh had almost been suffocated by the surge of people that had pressed upon
him when he broke the news. She smiled to herself, recalling the phrase ‘don’t shoot the
messenger.’ In this case, the messenger had almost been slain by the outpouring of goodwill.

She herself had not seen all of this. She had merely put her head in her hands and wept – only
this time with tears of relief and joy. To say the last few days had been difficult for her was an
understatement. She hoped never to go through such an experience again.

*But it was alright now. Everything was alright now*. She smiled at the thought; indeed, it
took all of her willpower not to laugh out loud. There had been much laughter this morning.

After finally releasing Walsh from a vice like embrace, Arthur had cracked open the Firewhisky,
much to Molly’s horror.

*‘Arthur, it’s half past nine on a Sunday morning for goodness sake! What are you doing
drinking at this hour?’*

*‘To hell with the time, dear!* *This is a cause for celebration. We can expect great
things from Harry after this!’ Arthur had exclaimed. His exuberance was contagious.*

*‘What do you mean?’ asked Molly.*

*‘Well, the last guy to die on a Friday and come back on a Sunday didn’t do too badly, did
he?’*

*‘Arthur Weasley! That’s…’ began Molly, horrified.*

*‘…quite possibly the funniest thing you have ever said,’ finished Fred, who slapped his
father on the back, tears of laughter streaming down his face.*

*‘Dad?’* *Ron had asked, once the laughter had subsided. ‘What did you say to Hermione to
get her out of her room?’*

*Arthur had looked smug. ‘I told her that we were going to get some good news about
Harry.’*

*Ron was agog. ‘How did you know?’*

*Arthur smiled. ‘Mr Walsh here made a slip. He asked me to “gather everyone who is close to
Harry - Everyone in the house you know he trusts.” Note the use of the present tense. Is close to
Harry; not was. Trusts; not trusted. I knew then that James knew that Harry was alive.’*

Hermione suppressed a giggle at the memory. Arthur had been in fine form and was so pleased with
himself for being right. Everyone had been in a silly – almost manic – mood. It had taken a while
for things to calm down enough before James Walsh could relate Scrimgeour’s request for an
interview with her and Ron. He had hinted that they would get to see Harry, so she did not need to
be asked twice. She had raced upstairs; washed; changed and then come back down, before polishing
off a large breakfast. She had been ravenous and had eaten enough bacon to feed a small country. Or
even a Ron.

James had been quite serious after that. He had stressed to everyone the importance of keeping
Harry’s ‘rebirth’ a secret. Arthur had stated that there were a few others who needed to know -
such as Lupin, Moody, McGonagall and Hagrid – and James had assented. Hermione was glad – she had
cursed Moody for preventing her from running to Harry’s rescue. She knew now that he had actually
saved her life. She made a mental note to thank him later. James had then explained to both her and
Ron the importance of concealing their emotions when they got to the Ministry. If they were
laughing and joking, they would arouse suspicion as their best friend was supposed to be dead.

‘Just pretend that you are still angry with Rufus – that shouldn’t be too difficult,’ James had
added, with a wink.

And so they had come to the Ministry to see Scrimgeour. On arrival, she could feel the eyes on
her and Ron when they were walking through the Atrium. It had taken all of her willpower not to
give the game away by looking happy. However, once she remembered how she had felt on Friday and
Saturday, the pretence had been much easier.

She looked up as Scrimgeour entered the outer office accompanied by Dolores Umbrage. Her eyes
narrowed. She had never forgiven the woman for her treatment of Harry in their fifth year and she
was not about to make allowances for her now.

‘Good Morning Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,’ began Rufus. ‘Thank you for agreeing to this interview
in what must be extremely difficult circumstances for you. Please, follow me.’ He led them into the
inner office and indicated that they take a seat.

Once they were all seated, Hermione and Ron just sat and stared at the Minister and waited for
him to make the opening gambit. Scrimgeour looked nervous. *Good*, she thought, *he should
be nervous*. Finally the Minister decided he had something to say.

‘I have just a few points to go over, if you don’t mind? I was wondering if you would be able to
shed any light on Harry’s activities prior to Friday’s…events. I am sorry that I have to ask, but
any information you could provide may be of extreme importance to the Ministry.’

‘Before we begin,’ began Hermione, ‘I want to make it absolutely clear that anything we may have
to say is for your ears only. I refuse to have any discourse at all with that woman,’ she finished,
indicating with a nod towards Umbrage.

‘“That woman”, as you so delicately put it, Miss Granger, happens to be a valuable aide of mine.
I would be grateful if you could put past differences aside and allow her to remain,’ replied
Rufus.

His request was met by a stony silence from both Hermione and Ron.

Scrimgeour looked perplexed. He was obviously torn between a desire to hear what they had to say
and his wish to have his closest advisor present. He finally turned to Umbrage with an apologetic
look on his face.

‘Dolores? Would you mind leaving us? I hate to have to ask this of you, but I would be grateful
if you could comply with this request, however unreasonable it may seem.’

Umbrage looked furious, but was in no position to argue with her boss.

‘If you are quite sure, Minister?’ she asked. Scrimgeour nodded. ‘Well, in that case, I will
wait in my office. Of course, if you need me for anything, you know where to find me,’ she
simpered.

Rufus rose from his chair and escorted her to the door. ‘Thank you, Dolores. I will of course
keep you informed of any developments,’ he said, closing the door behind her. Once it was shut, he
locked it and rested his head against the wood, waiting a few moments for the sound of Umbrage’s
footsteps to disappear. Finally, he turned and slammed his fist against the wall.

‘Foul, evil, bloody bitch!’ he exclaimed.

He turned to Ron and Hermione who were sitting open mouthed in their chairs.

‘My apologies for subjecting you both to the presence of that odious woman, but the charade had
to be played out. Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Granger. I was hoping you would demand exactly
that, but I couldn’t be sure. Things could not have worked out better for our purposes. I will
explain later, do not worry.’ He moved to join them and sat down. ‘Now, I understand that James has
already informed you of Harry’s resurrection?’

They both nodded, finally smiling, but still guarded.

‘Good,’ continued Rufus, ‘it will save us some time. The short version of the story is that we
managed to escape before the Shack blew up but that Voldemort does not know this – he thinks Harry
is dead. We thought it a good idea not to disabuse him of this notion. Harry will be able to
explain in more detail later, but I hope this explanation will suffice for now?’

‘Why didn’t you tell us before now?’ asked Hermione. ‘We have had a rough couple of days.’

‘I know, and I am sorry, but we could not inform you sooner. If we had then it is possible that
the secret would get out. My first priority was to get Harry somewhere safe and treat his injuries
– he’s quite alright, nothing serious,’ he added before Hermione or Ron could interrupt. ‘But this
meant that we could not tell you right away. Harry agreed, although he was not happy about it.’ He
stood up and walked to the fireplace, removing some Floo powder from a small pot. ‘I am sure you
have both done this before. The place you are going to is called ‘The Briars’ and is quite safe, I
can assure you. This fireplace is large enough to accommodate you both, so you can go first and I
will follow. There is someone at the other end who is quite keen to see you.’

Hermione was finding it difficult to breathe, such was her excitement. She grabbed Ron by the
arm and yanked him into the fireplace. Taking some Floo powder from the pot she paused and eyed
Scrimgeour before leaving. She tried to look severe, but could barely contain her smile. The older
man smiled in return before she threw the powder and shouted ‘The Briars!’

***********

Harry Potter put down the book he had been reading on the table before him and glanced at his
watch for the ninth time in as many minutes. He was aware that his two friends were due to Floo in
shortly and was steeling himself for what he believed would be a very awkward confrontation. He was
desperate to see them both again but knew that their reaction to finally seeing him after a few
days of thinking him dead could be described as ‘unpredictable’ at best. He only hoped that they
would at least give him a chance to explain things to them.

The room he was in was part of an extensive property that Rufus had originally described as a
safe house. It was situated roughly twenty miles south of the city of Glasgow, in Scotland and was
well off the beaten track. Its existence was known only to Rufus and it did not appear on any land
registers – indeed all title deeds were classified. He had been well catered for with plenty to
occupy him and Sukey had also been present to look after his domestic arrangements.

Despite this, it had been a long couple of days. He had wanted to contact his friends
immediately but had agreed with Rufus’ logic that to do so could jeopardise the secret. To occupy
himself he had read a little; watched some TV and generally lazed around. In almost any other
circumstances he would have enjoyed the experience, but he felt like a caged animal, such was the
impotence he felt. He knew that he could not begin the Horcrux hunt without his friends, but
waiting for them was proving to be as difficult a challenge as he had ever had to face. The only
bright spot in the past two days had been the arrival of Hedwig.

He had no idea how she had tracked him down, and was long past questioning how she always
managed to know where he was and when he needed her. Hagrid had done far better than he would ever
know when he had selected her for him that day in Diagon Alley. At the moment, she was out hunting
– something that always gave her pleasure.

He made to retrieve his book from the table but a sudden roaring from the fireplace made him
jump out of his seat. He knew the moment he had been waiting for was finally here and he found
himself shaking with nerves. Without conscious thought, his feet carried him to the middle of the
room where he stood and tried to compose himself. After a moment, the fire turned a brilliant green
and his two friends stepped out to stand about twenty feet before him.

Harry was overwhelmed. He saw Ron’s face break into a huge grin and he returned his smile rather
sheepishly. He turned his eyes to Hermione and tried to judge her reaction. She had closed her eyes
on seeing him and was attempting to stifle her sobs.

‘Hermione? It’s alright. It’s really me. Come here,’ he said as he stepped towards her, his arms
outstretched.

She walked towards him closing the distance between them when:-

WHACK!

The force of the blow to his face sent him crashing to the floor. As he lay there stunned he
noticed out of the corner of his eye that Rufus had also arrived behind them and was grinning
broadly at his predicament. He made to speak but was beaten to it by Hermione.

‘How dare you!’ she screamed at him. ‘How dare you do that to me! Have you any idea what I have
been through these past few days? I thought you were dead!’

Her voice had finally cracked at this last statement and it broke Harry’s heart to hear her. He
tentatively got to his feet and reached for his friend. Her tears were flowing freely now from a
mixture of relief and contrition and he was able to embrace her.

‘I am so sorry, Hermione. I didn’t want to hurt you – either of you,’ he added, looking over at
Ron. I wanted to tell you but Rufus said we couldn’t; at least not straight away. Can you believe
that?’

She seemed to calm down at his words and nodded in his arms. Harry looked over to Ron and
noticed that he too had been crying. He held out his hand towards him.

‘Mate?’

Ron smiled and moved towards him. Instead of taking the offered hand he seized Harry in a bear
hug that nearly lifted both him and Hermione from the ground.

‘I was wondering what that old fool Scrimgeour was up to when he sent Walsh to see us this
morning. It’s good to see you, mate, but if Hermione hadn’t slugged you, I would have for putting
us through that,’ Ron said, with a smile.

‘Ahem! That “old fool” Scrimgeour happens to be standing directly behind you, Mr Weasley.
Perhaps you may wish to reconsider your words?’

The three of them turned to the source of the voice and Harry realised that neither Ron nor
Hermione had seen Rufus enter the room behind them. He noticed that Ron’s face had turned the same
colour as his hair and burst out laughing. Even Hermione managed a snicker.

‘I’m sorry, Minister,’ began Ron, ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Everything has just happened so
fast that I forgot that this changes things.’

Rufus stared at Ron stonily for a moment and allowed the teenager to sweat for a bit before
breaking into a grin.

‘It’s quite alright, Mr Weasley – I understand. After all, you have been through quite a tough
few days. I can only hope that your opinion of this “old fool” changes somewhat.’

‘It will – I mean it already has!’ said Ron. His discomfort was obvious.

‘Then might I suggest we make ourselves more comfortable?’ continued Rufus. ‘I am sure that
Harry has much to say to you, just as I am equally sure that you have many questions for him.’

Harry nodded and made to disentangle himself from his friends in order to lead them to the sofa
and chairs that were situated by the window. Ron released them from his embrace, but Hermione would
not let go of Harry. Instead, she clung to his arm and would not even release her hold when they
were finally seated on the sofa. They all turned to face Harry who now has a very sheepish look on
his face.

‘How did you escape?’ asked Hermione who had finally recovered her composure and had once again
engaged her mind.

‘Sukey – Rufus’ house elf saved us,’ replied Harry. ‘Elf’s aren’t affected by Anti-Apparition
wards, so Rufus had the presence of mind to summon her. She managed to side along us to the
Minister’s office. If not, we would have been toast.’

‘You mentioned injuries,’ said Hermione, looking at Rufus.

‘Yeah, well…’ began Harry, ‘when we arrived at the office I fell over and banged my head on the
ottoman. Knocked myself out cold.’

Silence greeted these words until Ron and Hermione both burst out laughing.

‘The ottoman?’ Ron finally managed. ‘You have faced dragons, Death Eaters and You-Know-Who and
survived, but were finally undone by a piece of period furniture? Oh, this is great. Wait ‘til I
tell Fred and George.’

‘Thanks, Ron, I knew you would be sympathetic,’ said Harry. ‘Anyway, at my meeting with Rufus, I
had asked for his help in trying to disappear so no one would come looking for me. Voldemort gave
us the perfect opportunity. He now thinks I am dead, and who looks for a dead man? The chance was
too good to pass up. I’m just sorry I couldn’t let you know.’

‘That’s OK, Harry, we understand. I forgive you. Just don’t try anything like that again or I
will kill you myself,’ replied Hermione. She turned again to Rufus. ‘How did they know?’

‘Harry told me you didn’t miss much, Miss Granger – he said you would ask that. Unfortunately
one of my advisors turned out to be a spy,’ replied Rufus.

‘Umbrage?’ asked Hermione.

‘Yes, so now you know why that little scene in my office was so important.’

Hermione nodded. ‘I take then that you are not letting on you have uncovered her so as to use
her against Voldemort?’

Rufus looked at her with respect. ‘I can see I am going to have to watch myself around you, Miss
Granger. Nothing gets past you.’

Hermione flushed a little at the compliment, but turned back to her questions.

‘Who else knows?’

‘Apart from those informed this morning? Well, James Walsh obviously. And one other.’

‘Can we trust Mr Walsh?’ asked Hermione.

Rufus bristled a little at the question, but finally answered. ‘A fair question, given the
circumstances. Yes, I would trust him with my life. He was my partner in the Auror Division and I
have known him for over thirty years. I trust him as much as you trust Ron or Harry. Good
enough?’

‘Good enough,’ replied Hermione. ‘Who is the other?’

‘A goblin called Garnok. You see, the goblins would have followed the instructions in Harry’s
Will if we had not told him that he wasn’t dead. He is the only one who knows and can be trusted
completely. It is a matter of business and in that the goblins have their own rules, which they
will not break.’

‘You have a will?’ asked Ron. ‘Leave me anything?’

Harry smiled. ‘A few things.’

‘Minister, when this is all over, you can blow him up for real. I’d like to know what I would
have got.’

Hermione looked furious, but Harry and Rufus burst out laughing.

‘So what happens now?’ asked Hermione, once the laughter had subsided.

‘Well, right now you and Mr Weasley are going to return to my office to maintain the pretence.
You can then return home to gather what you need before returning here. You will be able to Floo
here from the Burrow, but only once. After that the fire will be sealed to all incomers except me.
You will be able to use it of course. Then you can do whatever you want.’

All three teens nodded.

‘Very well then, we must be getting back,’ said Rufus. ‘Umbrage will be expecting us to finish
soon. I will go first. You can say your goodbyes then.’

They rose and made their way to the fireplace. Rufus did not hang around and Flooed out after
saying goodbye. Hermione turned to Harry.

‘I’m sorry for hitting you, Harry. I was just so upset with everything that happened,’ she said,
before pulling him into a hug.

Harry smiled. ‘That’s OK. Although, next time you want to put me on my arse, I would be grateful
if you did it the same way you managed it the night of my birthday at the Burrow.’

Hermione looked confused for a second before the memory kicked in. She turned scarlet. Ron
laughed.

‘See you soon, mate,’ he said, as he shook Harry’s hand. ‘You have no idea how good it is to see
you.’

‘You too, Ron,’ replied Harry. ‘See you soon.’ He turned to Hermione, who was still in his
arms.

‘See you soon as well, eh?’

She nodded, and squeezed him tighter. Then she surprised them both by giving him a kiss on the
cheek.

‘Take care,’ she said, before releasing her hold and stepping into the fire. Ron joined her.

‘Minister of Magic’s office!’ they chorused together, before disappearing, leaving Harry staring
at the empty fireplace holding his cheek where she had kissed him.



6. Heart and Soul
-----------------

**Chapter 6 – Heart and Soul**

Six hours later, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the same sofa and chairs they had occupied
earlier with Rufus. This time the atmosphere was more relaxed, with Ron placing his feet upon the
coffee table (much to the disgust of Hermione); Harry lying back on one end of the sofa and
Hermione sitting upright at the other end. Both Ron and Hermione looked at Harry expectantly. For
his part, Harry was slightly disconcerted by how quickly everything had happened.

After returning to the Burrow from the Ministry, Ron and Hermione had hastily packed what was
required before Flooing back to the Briars. Only a quick explanation was given to the many
questions received from the Weasleys – particularly Molly. They had promised to provide more
details the next time they met, but had to be deliberately vague as to when that would be.

After spending a couple of hours getting unpacked, the three friends had enjoyed a late dinner
provided by Sukey. Hermione had been about to launch into a usual diatribe on elf rights, but Harry
had merely said ‘not now’ and that had proven sufficient. Instead, he had ordered a flagon of
pumpkin juice, three glasses, and suggested they repair to the softer seats.

Now that they were finally all together, Harry did not know where to begin. He took a sip of
juice and composed his thoughts.

‘Well,’ he began, ‘I suppose we had better turn our minds to the task ahead. I have managed to
postpone it all summer, but I suppose we should make a start. The trouble is I don’t know how.’

Ron and Hermione shared a glance before the latter spoke up.

‘Well, Harry, I have been giving this some thought and I reckon the best approach would be to
write down what we know; what we think we know; and what we need. For example, Dumbledore thought
that Voldemort had split his soul into seven parts. Let’s make a list of those we know about,’ she
concluded, producing a quill, some ink and parchment.

‘OK, that seems reasonable,’ said Harry. He sat up a bit. ‘Well, we know about the ring and the
diary. That’s two of the seven parts destroyed, so we only have five more to worry about. We have
to assume that one of the fragments remains in Riddle, so that leaves four. We also know about
Slytherin’s locket.’ He paused for a moment, waiting for the scratch of Hermione’s quill to catch
up with his words. ‘Dumbledore also thought that he would have used a cup belonging to Helga
Hufflepuff; something that belonged to Ravenclaw; and Nagini, his snake. Although I must confess
that the last three is pure speculation as far as I am concerned,’ he concluded.

‘OK,’ replied Hermione, ‘That’s a good start. We have four we are certain of if we include the
locket and Riddle; and three we aren’t sure about. Of the four we are sure about, two have been
destroyed. We can ignore Riddle for now, as he will have to be dealt with last.’

Harry nodded, finally beginning to fully appreciate the challenge that they faced. ‘So you think
we should go after the locket first?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely,’ replied Hermione. ‘It’s the only artefact we have a lead on.’

‘Lead?’ asked Ron. ‘What lead?’

‘RAB,’ replied Harry. ‘If we can find out who he – or she – was we have a chance of finding the
original. According to the note, RAB swapped the fake locket for the real one.’

‘Exactly!’ said Hermione. ‘And I think I know who can help us find RAB.’

‘Who?’ Harry and Ron asked together.

‘McGonagall.’ She gave an exasperated sigh at the look of bewilderment on her friend’s faces.
‘Look, we know that RAB must be a witch or a wizard, right?’

They nodded.

‘So then there is a good chance that RAB attended Hogwarts. If so, their name will be on the
school roll. If I can get a copy of that from McGonagall, we could perhaps find out who RAB
is.’

‘That’s brilliant, Hermione,’ said Harry.

Hermione flushed scarlet. ‘Thank you, Harry. I will write to McGonagall to see if she will agree
to meet me. Can I borrow Hedwig?’

‘Probably not a good idea,’ replied Harry. ‘It’s probably best if she isn’t seen delivering
mail. You should ask Sukey – I’m sure she would be glad to help.’

Hermione did not look too enamoured at the prospect of using an elf for the job, but conceded
the logic.

‘OK, I will write to her later. Anything else we should consider?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Harry. ‘Something Lupin said has been bothering me.’

‘Lupin?’ asked Ron.

‘Yes – the night of my birthday at your house. He said that Voldemort would not have expected
the attack to succeed in killing Dumbledore. Do you remember?’

‘Yes, but what does that prove?’ asked Ron.

‘It doesn’t prove anything, but it got me thinking. Lupin was right – Malfoy let the Death
Eaters in once he knew Dumbledore had left the school, so he couldn’t have been the original
target. And no one could have foreseen how weak Dumbledore would be when he got back. Not Malfoy,
nor Snape; not fifty Death Eaters could have taken him had he not been incapacitated. So why did
they attack the school?’

‘You think there was another motive? asked Hermione.

‘Yes. I think Voldemort may have been trying to retrieve something from the school. Something
important to him.’

‘A Horcrux?’ asked Ron.

Harry nodded.

‘What do you think it could be?’ Ron continued.

‘No idea. I’m not even sure that I am right. It’s just something I think we should check out.’
He looked at Hermione questioningly.

She didn’t reply for a moment, lost in thought. Finally, she said ‘I think it might be worth
checking it out, Harry. You said that Dumbledore believed Riddle would keep the Horcruxes in
locations that meant something to him. I can’t think of anywhere that would mean more to him than
Hogwarts. I’ll ask McGonagall if we can have a snoop around before term starts.’

Harry nodded gratefully, glad that his friends had not dismissed his ideas.

‘OK, well, that ought to do it for the moment. If you can write to McGonagall we might have
something to go on. Until then, we should relax for a bit. It may be the last chance we get for a
while, so we should make the most of it.’

***********

**Monday 4th August 1997**

Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. He’d had the first really good nights sleep for
about a week and felt much better for it. He got up, dressed and made his way to the main sitting
room that had become their base in this vast house. Ron and Hermione had a room each, but they had
taken rooms right next to each other on the first floor. It didn’t seem to make sense to spread
themselves throughout the manor.

When he arrived downstairs, he was surprised to find Ron up and about ahead of him. Also, he
noted with amusement, Hermione didn’t appear to have surfaced this morning.

‘Morning, Ron,’ he said, ‘Hermione being lazy today?’

Ron grinned in response. ‘I don’t think you are in a position to call anyone lazy, Harry – its
half past eleven. Hermione left to see McGonagall hours ago.’

‘What? Why didn’t you wake me?’ Harry was affronted.

‘Hermione said you needed the rest. She said that you being awake wouldn’t change anything, so
she would see you when she got back. Now, do you fancy any breakfast, or do you just want to wait
until lunch?’ he added, with a smirk.

Harry didn’t bother dignifying that with a reply. Instead he summoned Sukey, who quickly
prepared a hearty breakfast for him. He was half way through eating it when the fireplace suddenly
glowed and Hermione stepped out, a large parchment in her hand, looking very pleased with
herself.

‘Good…’ she checked her watch, ‘morning, Harry. Sleep well?’ she asked, a glint of amusement in
her eye.

‘Ha ha,’ replied Harry, sarcastically. ‘You should have woken me,’ he added accusingly.

‘Contrary to what you might think,’ she began mischievously, ‘the world does in fact operate
when you are not here, Harry. McGonagall replied first thing this morning and invited me to
Hogwarts. I left immediately. For one thing, I got to tell her that the reports of your death were
greatly exaggerated.’

‘Oh. How did she take it?’ Harry asked.

‘About as well as can be expected. She’s over the moon, obviously, but says you had better steer
clear of her for a while or she will kill you herself when she sees you. I know exactly what she
means,’ Hermione added.

‘Right, fine,’ said Harry, raising his arms in surrender. ‘How much more of this will I have to
listen to?’

‘Oh, I don’t know – until we get bored I suppose,’ laughed Ron.

‘How did you get on Hermione? You were gone for a while,’ asked Harry.

‘Yes, well, I got what I wanted pretty quickly, but I did have a long chat with Professor
McGonagall afterwards. She wanted to know what you were up to, but I told her that Dumbledore had
sworn us to secrecy. His portrait confirmed this.’

‘His portrait? I had forgotten about that,’ said Harry. ‘It might be useful if we could speak to
him – I mean speak to it.’

‘I thought that too,’ said Hermione. ‘We could speak to it when we visit Hogwarts. McGonagall
said we were welcome to go, but we would have to let her know when. She wants to speak to you about
something, but she wouldn’t say what.’

‘Fair enough. It will be good to see her again anyway,’ replied Harry. ‘I take it that’s a copy
of the school roll you have?’

‘Yes, but not the full roll. I figured that I wouldn’t have to go further back than a hundred
years. It’s still a lot of names though.’

‘Do you need any help?’ asked Harry.

‘I don’t think so. I only have one copy, so you would probably get in the way. I’ll just take my
lunch away with me and get started. You two might want to start thinking about what else we might
need,’ she added.

With that, she picked up the scroll and departed for her room. Harry watched leave
affectionately and then turned to Ron.

‘So…any ideas?’

*********

Half an hour later Harry found himself in his room delving through his trunk. Ron had brought it
over when he arrived to stay from the Burrow and Harry had forgotten about it. His memory had been
jogged by Hermione’s suggestion that he and Ron ‘think about what else we might need.’ Ron had
decided that what he needed included a plate of steak and chips, followed by a nap, so Harry had
been left to his own devices. It was then that he remembered Dumbledore’s letter and the ‘odds and
ends’ that he had left him. Dashing up to his room he waded into his trunk and began sifting
through his possessions.

He found the small parcel at the bottom of his trunk. He could not believe that he had left it
this long to see what he had been left by his old Headmaster, but he reasoned that he was probably
not mentally or emotionally ready to have opened it before now. He was glad that his friends were
not here as he felt that this was a private moment – these items had been left to him.

He opened the parcel and tried to contain the total feeling of disappointment that he
experienced on viewing the items. The first thing he discovered was a small leather bound book that
evidently contained Dumbledore’s notes about the Horcruxes. Glancing at it quickly, he did not
discover anything that he did not already know. He decided to examine it in detail later.

The second item really perplexed him. He recognised it as the ring he had seen Dumbledore wear
last year – the ring that had been used by Voldemort as a Horcrux and the ring that had evidently
damaged the headmaster’s hand when destroyed. He couldn’t for the life of him work out why he had
been left a destroyed Horcrux, or why Dumbledore thought that it could help him in his search; but
he acknowledged that it was typical of Dumbledore to never explain things fully to him.

His musings were interrupted by shouts from downstairs.

‘Harry? Ron? Where are you? I need to speak to you both.’ It was Hermione.

Pocketing the items, Harry headed downstairs and was soon joined by Ron. They both looked
questioningly at Hermione.

‘I think I have found something,’ she said.

‘That was quick,’ replied Ron. I thought it would take you all day to go through that list.’

She looked at him severely for a second. ‘I didn’t have to go through the entire list, Ronald, I
just started with the surnames beginning with “B”. I think I have found our RAB.’ Ron had the good
grace to look sheepish as he realised how foolish he had been.

‘Who?’ asked Harry.

‘Regulus Black,’ replied Hermione. ‘Regulus Arcturus Black. Was he not Sirius’ brother?’

The revelation hit Harry like a sledgehammer. Of course – Regulus. He thought of the time Sirius
had taken him through the Black family tree. He even said that Regulus had been a Death Eater. It
all fit! How could he have not seen this before now?

‘Sweet Merlin,’ he said. ‘I think you are right, Hermione. Sirius said his brother was tight
with Voldemort, but that he had eventually been murdered by him. I wonder if this was his way of
getting even. He probably knew Voldemort was on to him and decided to do something about it! What
do you think?’

‘I think this may be our RAB,’ said Hermione. ‘It all fits. What do you think, Ron? Ron?’ she
asked again, as her friend was standing with his eyes closed, deep in thought.

‘Do you remember,’ Ron began slowly, ‘when we were cleaning out Grimmauld Place back in fifth
year? We found a locket that no one could get open?’ He opened his eyes, the implication of his
discovery dawning on him, and looked at the others.

‘Oh shit,’ said Harry. ‘I remember. Oh shit. It’s the locket. It was identical to the one we
found in the cave! It must be the original that Regulus got when he swapped it for the fake.
Shit!’

‘What happened to it?’ asked Hermione, panic in her voice. ‘Did we not throw out a lot of
Sirius’ old stuff?’

‘We did,’ replied Harry. ‘We chucked out loads of things. I have no idea where they ended up.
Sirius wanted them destroyed because he reckoned there was a lot of dark magic in some of those
items. Do you not remember Kreacher was heartbroken about it all?’

‘Kreacher!’ exclaimed Ron. ‘That foul little git was always trying to save some of the
artefacts! Remember we kept catching him with stacks of the stuff we were trying to toss out? I
wonder if he managed to save anything?’

‘I hope so,’ replied Harry fervently, ‘because if he hasn’t I have no idea where to look. We
will have to go back to Grimmauld,’ he finished.

‘When?’ asked Ron.

‘As soon as possible,’ replied Harry with a scowl. ‘Tonight, if we can. I hoped never to go back
there,’ he added.

‘We know, Harry,’ said Hermione, looking concerned for her friend. ‘But I suspect there will be
a few things we will have to do that we don’t want to. It will be best if we wait until tonight.
I’m not sure if that house is safe anymore now that Dumbledore is gone and Snape is on the loose.
We will have to be careful.’

‘I know,’ said Harry. He really did not want to go back to Sirius’ old house, but he knew that
he had no choice in the matter.

*Why were things always so difficult?*

*********

Number 12 Grimmauld place lay in a state of malevolent slumber; the only light evident coming
from the moon as it penetrated through the gaps in the worn curtains. It was evident that no one
had set foot in the house for some time as a thick coating of dust lay over everything. Cobwebs
could be found on almost every surface and the very air itself seemed to have a tangible quality to
it – a heaviness that one could almost touch. A few rats scurried hither and thither, but this was
the only movement that disturbed the silence. Even the portraits were still and unmoving.

The stillness was suddenly disturbed by a long, loud creaking as the front door was slowly swung
open and Harry, Ron and Hermione tentatively crept into the hall. Harry placed his finger to his
lips for silence as the three friends crept past the portrait of Sirius’ mother and entered the
side room that contained the Black family tree. Harry walked over to the tapestry as Ron quietly
closed the door behind them. He noticed that it had updated itself; a new name had been added
separate from the others – his own. He realised with a sudden rush of sadness that this house was
his now, and that this was probably the only reason they were able to enter. The thought actually
gave him some comfort – they had been worried about Snape but Harry now realised that the house
would not have let the greasy git in after the death of Sirius. The house wards would have kicked
into operation until the new owner – himself – had entered the house.

He started suddenly as Hermione stood next to him and studied the family tree. Evidently, she
had reached the same conclusions as he did as a thin smile appeared on her lips and she turned to
Harry.

‘We should be OK,’ she whispered, ‘The house would not have let anyone in – Sirius mentioned to
us before about the security on this place.’

Harry nodded in reply, a familiar tightness in his throat that appeared whenever he thought of
his Godfather.

‘Yeah, I think you are right,’ he replied. ‘So what do we do now? I have no idea where to start
looking and this house is no place for the unwary.’

‘I know, Harry,’ replied Hermione, ‘but we have one thing in our favour. Can you summon
Kreacher? And when you do, can you please be nice to him?’ She noticed that Harry’s face had
darkened at the mention of the traitorous house elf, so plunged on. ‘I know you blame him for
Sirius’ death, Harry, but we need him right now and bullying him is not going to help.’

‘I can just order him to talk you know,’ replied Harry, with a bite in his tone. ‘He is my elf
and I can do what I want with him,’ he added bitterly. He turned to look at his friend and noticed
a pained expression on her face. He felt his bitterness melt away when he looked at her, and closed
his eyes. ‘OK, Hermione, I will try to be nice to him.’ He took a breath. ‘KREACHER!’

After a short moment the elf appeared in front of them with a loud crack. The look of resentment
on his face changed to one of disgust when he saw who stood before him.

‘Master has summoned Kreacher after ignoring him for so long,’ he muttered. ‘Kreacher wonders
what he has done for master to call on him. Kreacher sees that master still has the blood traitor
and the mudblood with him…’

‘Enough!’ shouted Harry. Kreacher was immediately silent, and Harry took the opportunity to take
a deep breath and calm down somewhat.

‘Kreacher, you will not use those terms in relation to my friends. I forbid it.’ Kreacher made
to reply, but Harry continued. ‘Now, Kreacher, I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to
answer me truthfully. Have you ever seen this before?’ he added, holding up the replica of
Slytherin’s locket.

Kreacher’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates when he saw the locket, before he cast a glance
towards the door. ‘Where did master get this?’ he hissed, a hint of panic in his voice.

Harry closed his eyes in relief. He knew now from the old elf’s reaction that Kreacher had the
original locket. He paused for a moment, deciding how best to handle this. He was aware that
Hermione was watching him intently, concern on her face.

‘Kreacher,’ he began, much more civilly than before, ‘it is very important that you tell me the
truth here. I could order you to answer, but I would rather you did this of your own accord. You
have seen this locket before, haven’t you?’

After a moment, Kreacher simply nodded. Harry continued.

‘This locket belonged to your master, Regulus, did it not?’ Again, Kreacher nodded. ‘I thought
so. Did Regulus make the locket himself?’

‘Yes, master,’ replied Kreacher, a note of anguish in his voice.

Harry knew that he had to handle this very carefully. ‘Kreacher, I have to tell you that the
locket you have hidden is a fake. This locket is the real one – the one made by Regulus.’ He
noticed the sceptical look on the elf’s face so removed the note from his pocket. ‘Look, Kreacher;
this is a note from Regulus. He swapped his locket with a fake belonging to someone else. What I
would like you to do for me is get me the fake locket. In exchange, I will give you back the real
one.’

Kreacher took the note from Harry and read it greedily. When finished, he looked back at Harry
with an astonished expression on his face. Harry decided to turn the screw.

‘Kreacher, I could order you to get me the fake locket and then I could keep both of them.
However, my friend – the one you call “mudblood” - has asked me not to do this. Instead she – and I
– would rather you did this of your own accord. Would you get me the locket? Please?’

Kreacher hesitated for a moment before shuffling off out of the room. He stopped at the door and
turned as if making sure he was not being followed.

‘I am not interested in any other artefacts,’ said Harry. ‘Just bring me the fake locket
please.’

Kreacher nodded and disappeared . A few minutes later he returned, Slytherin’s locket in his
grasp.

‘Thank you, Kreacher,’ said Harry, offering his locket to the elf. In response, Kreacher took it
from him and handed over his own locket in return. Harry was surprised to see tears in the old
elf’s eyes. He turned to Hermione and was equally surprised to see moisture evident in her eyes
too. He turned back to Kreacher.

‘You may return to Hogwarts, Kreacher; I have no further demands of you.’

In response, Kreacher bowed low to Harry. When he spoke, his voice was deeper, lacking the usual
contempt and scorn.

‘Master Harry may call on Kreacher at any time. Kreacher will be proud to help such a generous
and noble master whenever he is required.’ He glanced at Hermione. ‘Kreacher will also be proud to
serve master’s friends. Should they call.’

‘Thank you, Kreacher’ replied Harry, before realising he was talking to thin air, as the elf had
disappeared with a pop. He turned to his friends, an eyebrow raised.

‘That went well, don’t you think?’ he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

**********

**Tuesday 5th August 1997**

The next morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in their usual spot around the coffee table. On it
lay Slytherin’s locket, its presence dominating all else in the room. They had come down for
breakfast as normal and, after eating, had taken their normal seats. Harry had placed the locket
before them and not a word had been spoken for some time. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

‘What now? Does anyone know how we destroy one of these things?’

Harry thought for a moment before replying.

‘I don’t know, Ron. I destroyed the diary with a basilisk fang but I have no idea how Dumbledore
destroyed the ring. It might be worth trying to get back into the chamber to see if we can get
another fang, but I don’t think the venom will still be potent. We may have to come up with a new
method.’ He leaned forwards and picked up the locket. It was bitter cold to the touch and was
heavier than the replica had been. He didn’t know what this meant. He tried to prise it open but
found that the lid would not budge. ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I don’t know if destroying the object
will be enough. As far as I can gather, a piece of Voldemort’s soul is actually inside this locket.
It is the soul fragment we need to destroy – not the locket itself. If we destroy the locket it’s
possible we will still have a dismembered soul to deal with.’

He looked up at his friends and saw the horrified expressions on their faces. He shrugged in
defeat. ‘Maybe I should try Dumbledore’s journal – there may be something in it on how to actually
destroy the damn things.’

‘What journal?’ chorused Ron and Hermione.

Harry inwardly cursed. He had forgotten to tell his friends about the items Dumbledore had left
them. Without a word, he went up to his room and returned a few moments later.

‘Dumbledore left me these,’ he said, holding up the book and the ring. ‘I’m sorry I forget to
tell you – I only remembered he had left me something yesterday and in the excitement of Hermione’s
discovery it completely slipped my mind.’

‘I can’t believe you, Harry,’ began Hermione, a hint of asperity in her tone. ‘How could you
have forgotten about something as important as this? There could be vital information in that
journal.’

Harry made to retort but when he looked at Hermione he saw that she had a hungry look on her
face as she gazed upon the book. Suppressing a smile, he handed over the journal. ‘Here. I have
only had a glance at it. I figured you were the best person to go through it. Take your time. I am
going to visit McGonagall today – you said she wanted to see me. You can go through it when I am at
Hogwarts.’

Hermione accepted these words as an apology of sorts and almost snatched the book from Harry,
such was her eagerness. She fetched a quill and some parchment and began to read, taking notes as
she did so. Harry and Ron shared an amused glance.

‘So what’s that for?’ asked Ron, pointing at the ring.

‘No idea,’ replied Harry. ‘I know that it was used as a Horcrux and that Dumbledore destroyed
it, but I can’t for the life of me work out why he would leave it to me.’

‘Bloody mental that man,’ replied Ron. ‘Great, but mental. You could maybe ask McGonagall when
you see her; she might know something.’

Harry nodded, deep in thought. He had not taken his eyes off Hermione whilst talking to Ron and
was caught by just how beautiful she looked as she sat there working through the journal. She was
now oblivious to everything around her and he was captivated by the look of concentration on her
face as she quietly scribbled a few notes onto the parchment. He stood looking at her for a long
moment, unaware of the knowing smile that now crossed Ron’s face. Finally, he turned from her and
caught Ron’s eye. The look Ron gave him was very revealing and Harry actually blushed.

‘I’m going to see McGonagall,’ he muttered, before hastily making his way upstairs.

Ron grinned even wider as his eyes followed Harry from the room. *I really need to have a word
with him.*

**********

Not long after, Harry found himself walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, concealed by his
invisibility cloak. He had been about to leave the house without it when Hermione had looked up
from her scribbling and had reminded him that he was dead. It would not do for him to be spotted by
Filch or anyone else who may be lingering in the castle over the holidays.

He approached the stone gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster’s – Mistress’, he corrected
himself – office and considered his options. Glancing around furtively, he removed his cloak and
regarded the statues.

‘Cuid Ma Faille,’ he said expectantly.

With a low rumbling noise, the staircase started to rise and Harry stepped on, allowing himself
to be carried up to the office. When entering, he was surprised to see that McGonagall had made a
great deal of changes to the décor – instead of the many mysterious objects that had been present
when Dumbledore was alive, there was a plethora of ornaments, most of coloured them with varying
degrees of tartan. Harry smiled to himself. Some things don’t change.

‘Mr Potter,’ came the familiar Scottish brogue. ‘How good it is to see you. I am pleased to see
that you are alive and well in these troubled times.’ There was a hint of severity in the tone, but
Harry could see that his old teacher was smiling.

‘Hello, Professor. It’s good to see you too. I’m sorry about the deception, but I thought it
would be useful to disappear for a while.’

‘Quite, I understand. Please sit down,’ replied McGonagall. For her part, she was greatly
pleased to see her former pupil, although she did have some difficulty in accepting the ‘former’
part of that status. Of all the students that had crossed her path over the years, there was only
two that she considered greater favourites than the young man now sitting before her. One was, of
course, this young man’s friend; the other his mother. It often struck her that the two women she
considered her favourite students should be so alike and should be linked by a shared love for
Harry. Life was strange sometimes.

‘I am glad you could make the time to see me,’ she began, as she poured them both some tea.
‘Albus requested that I give you something in a letter I received after his death. I was beginning
to wonder how to comply with his request, but now I can carry out his wish.’

At the mention of his old Headmaster Harry had cast a glance towards the portraits on the wall
only to find that the one of Dumbledore was empty. He didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or
relieved by this. Following his glance, McGonagall continued.

‘I am afraid that Albus had to leave on urgent business this morning – his presence was
requested by the Minister. No rest for him, even in death it would seem.’ She had risen whilst
saying this and had removed something from its case at the back of the room. Sitting back down, she
offered it to him. Harry was stupefied.

‘Gryffindor’s sword?’ he asked in amazement. ‘I can’t accept this. This is one of the most
important artefacts in our world!’

‘I am well aware of that, Mr Potter; but notwithstanding this, Albus was most insistent that you
have this. It is not a gift, Harry, more of a loan. Albus seems to think that you will need it, but
it is to be returned when you have done whatever it is you have to do.’ There was more than a hint
of a question in her tone and Harry suddenly felt a surge of pity for his old teacher. These past
few weeks could not have been easy for her.

‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you what we are doing, Professor, but the Headmaster insisted that I
tell no one apart from Ron and Hermione. I am sure it is not an issue of trust, for I know he had
nothing but the highest regard for you. If I was to guess his reasons, I would suggest that he
wanted you to be kept out of this for your own safety. He knew that Hogwarts would need you once he
was gone.’

Minerva seemed to accept this explanation, for she merely nodded and handed over the sword to
Harry, who took it from her with a degree of reverence. They sat in silence for a moment,
contemplating the artefact before them. Finally Minerva brought them back to business.

‘I hope you realise that I will do anything in my power to assist you, Harry – do not hesitate
to seek my help. You do not have to reveal what you are doing, but need only ask.’

‘Thank you, Professor,’ replied Harry. ‘There are one or two things I may need. I would be
grateful if Ron, Hermione and I could have a look around Hogwarts before term starts again. There
is something we need to check.’

‘Of course,’ replied Minerva. ‘I trust you are receiving admirable help from Miss Granger and Mr
Weasley?’

‘Too right I am,’ replied Harry, with an emphatic nod. ‘I couldn’t do this without them.’

‘I am glad to hear it.’ Minerva paused for a moment before continuing. ‘It is good that you
appreciate your friends; sometimes people don’t realise what they have even when it is staring them
in the face.’

Harry looked at her sharply. There had definitely been a shift in emphasis when she said that
last remark. What was she really trying to say?

‘There is no need to worry on that score,’ replied Harry, cautiously, ‘I appreciate everything
they do for me.’

‘Good,’ replied Minerva. ‘I would hate to think you were not noticing some very important
things,’ she added pointedly. ‘Now we have some things to discuss, some arrangements to be made, so
I would be grateful if I could have your undivided attention – unlike some of the times you were in
my class,’ she added with a smile.

Harry merely nodded, confused by her remarks. *What exactly was she getting at?* he thought
to himself as he relaxed back into his chair.

*******

Hermione put down her quill and strode to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She had been working
on Dumbledore’s notebook for several hours and felt that she deserved a break. She had jotted down
a copious amount of notes as the Headmaster had left them a load of valuable information in his
book – if one knew what to look for. For one thing, she now had a good idea what McGonagall wanted
to see Harry about.

She thought about her own meeting with her former Professor when she had requested a copy of the
school roll. McGonagall had always been her favourite teacher (she knew Harry and Ron preferred
Dumbledore) and she was delighted to have had the chance to talk to her on an informal basis.
Minerva (as she had insisted Hermione call her) was a role model to her. Intelligent, independent
and utterly fearless; she was everything Hermione strove to be. She was also uncomfortably astute
about certain matters of the heart.

When Hermione had told her that Harry was still alive, Minerva’s relief and delight had been
obvious. What was slightly disconcerting, however, was the older woman’s seemingly impossible
knowledge of Hermione’s feelings towards Harry. After a futile attempt to deny these feelings,
Hermione had been forced to admit that Minerva was correct.

‘Don’t worry yourself about it, dear. Harry has a lot on his mind at the moment. Once he has a
chance to stop and think, he will realise the truth before him.’

‘What truth?’ Hermione had asked.

‘The fact that he is madly in love with you too. It’s as plain as the nose on your face that the
two of you are meant to be together. I can’t think of a couple who are more suitably matched in all
my long years of teaching. You have come to realise this – Harry hasn’t managed to do this yet. Of
course, you always were quicker on the uptake; although as this is Harry we are talking about,
that’s not much of a boast. When it comes to certain matters he really does have the perception of
a troll.’

Hermione had not known what to say to this revelation – indeed she was still a little dumbstruck
at the comments. She smiled when she thought about it though; on one thing at least Minerva was
correct. She had seen Harry’s feeble attempts to woo Cho in fifth year and knew all to well that he
had a bit of a blind spot when it came to matters of the heart. She only hoped that Minerva was
correct in her assertion that he loved her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a roaring from the fireplace that indicated that Harry was on
his way back. She called Ron down from his room and went over to greet her friend when he returned.
After a moment, Harry appeared from the flames with a wrapped package in his hand. He gave Hermione
what can only be described as an odd look and seemed to be about to say something to her when they
were interrupted by Ron.

‘Alright, mate? What did McGonagall want then?’ he asked.

Hermione noticed that Harry looked a bit annoyed at the interruption, but the expression was so
fleeting she could have imagined it. He glanced back to her before replying.

‘She wanted to give me this,’ he replied, as he held out Gryffindor’s sword for them both to
see.

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Ron. ‘What did she give you that for?’

‘No idea,’ replied Harry. ‘Dumbledore apparently thought I would need it, but he didn’t say
why.’ The frustration in his voice was evident.

‘I know why,’ said Hermione. She ignored the astonished looks on the faces of her friends. ‘Why
don’t we sit down? There are some things you both should know.’

She led them to their usual place by the window and waited until they were all seated before
continuing.

‘Dumbledore left a lot of vital information in his journal,’ she began, with an admonishing look
at Harry, who merely looked sheepishly back at her. ‘Probably the most important piece of
information was how to destroy a Horcrux. You see, you only have to destroy the object that the
fragment of soul resides in, in order to destroy the soul fragment itself. However, the soul
fragment provides the object with powerful magical protection, so attempting to smash or crack it
using conventional methods wont work. You need powerful magic to counter this defence. Harry
destroyed the diary by using a basilisk fang and that worked because the venom is from a magical
creature and is so powerful that it will destroy anything it comes into contact with.’ She paused
before her next revelation. ‘Dumbledore destroyed the ring using Gryffindor’s sword.’

An astonished silence greeted these words before Harry finally summoned the will to speak.

‘How?’

‘It’s a magical sword, Harry – you of all people should know that. Gryffindor put some of
himself into that sword when he made it. Not his soul,’ she added quickly, correctly guessing
Harry’s next question. ‘More like some of his magical essence. That’s why it was able to sense that
you needed it in the chamber. Remember, you pulled it out of the sorting hat. That was Gryffindor’s
too. The two objects are linked, and this link can only be a magical one.’

Harry took a moment to absorb this new information. He sat forward, slowly turning the sword
over in his hands, deep in thought. ‘Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that sword out of the
hat,’ he murmured. Finally he looked up. ‘So, we have the capability to destroy the locket then?’
he asked.

Hermione nodded.

‘So what are we waiting for?’ asked Ron. ‘Here, Harry, let me see the sword for a second,’ he
continued, before rising and taking the sword from an astonished Harry and walking over to the
table where the locket lay. Before either Harry or Hermione had time to react, Ron swung the blade
with all of his might and brought it down sharply on the locket.

Two things happened at once. The locket, instead of breaking into pieces, merely shot off the
table such was the force of the impact. And Ron let out a roar of pain as the shock of the blow
reverberated up through the sword and into his arm.

‘Sweet Merlin!’ he cried, as he dropped the sword and clutched his arm. ‘That bloody hurt!’

‘Ronald Weasley!’ exclaimed Hermione. ‘That is without doubt the most stupid thing you have ever
done, and that’s saying something!’ She was furious, and even Harry backed away from her rage. ‘You
had no idea what could have happened there. You could have been killed!’

‘It’s OK, Hermione, no real harm done,’ said Ron, through gritted teeth. He strode over to the
wall and retrieved the locket. It didn’t have a scratch on it. ‘I thought you said the sword would
destroy the locket?’ he asked, accusingly.

‘No, I said you couldn’t destroy the object by conventional means. We have to get the damn thing
open first, you idiot.’

Harry knew that she really was angry – he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard her
curse. He tried to take the edge of her wrath.

‘OK then, so do we have any idea how to open it? I remember that none of us could get it open at
Grimmauld.’

Hermione turned on Harry, but her features softened before she replied.

‘No, Harry, we will have to give this some thought. We will probably have to try a few things.’
She held his gaze for a moment before turning towards some movement from Ron.

‘*Alohamora*!’ said Ron, trying to coax the locket into opening.

‘Will you stop that!’ exclaimed Hermione, her temper flaring again. ‘We are not ready yet to
face whatever is in that locket and we don’t want it opened before we are ready. Besides, we tried
that before, remember?’

‘Yeah, I remember. I was just trying to discover if the damn thing had learned to understand
English yet.’

‘Incantations are not said in English, Ron – they are said in Latin. How many times do I have to
tell you that?’

Harry smiled despite the situation. Even now, Hermione could not help but correct Ron’s
stupidity.

‘Yeah, OK, Hermione, I get it now. English doesn’t work; Latin doesn’t work. Any other
suggestions?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘French perhaps? Or maybe German?’

A light went of in Harry’s head at these words. He ignored the continued bickering between his
two friends as he came to a realisation that he knew was true.

‘I know how to open it,’ he said quietly. His two friends stopped in mid argument and stared at
him.

‘Here, give me the locket,’ continued Harry. ‘And the sword.’

Without a word, Ron handed over the two items as requested and gave Harry a questioning
look.

‘I want you two to leave the room,’ said Harry. ‘If anything goes wrong, I don’t want either of
you getting hurt. Besides, we shouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket.’

‘Not a chance,’ said Hermione. ‘If you think I am going to let you open that thing on your own
then you must take me for a fool. Wild horses could not drag me out of this room right now.’

Harry was about to argue, but one look at the fierce expression on Hermione’s face convinced him
otherwise.

‘OK, but I want you both to stand over there,’ he said, pointing to the farthest corner of the
room. Neither of his friends moved. ‘That wasn’t a request,’ continued Harry. ‘Get in that corner
right now or I *will* bugger off somewhere and do this myself!’ His tone was harsh now, and
his friends, after a moment’s hesitation, moved to obey. ‘And if this looks like getting dodgy,’
Harry continued, ‘you will get the hell out of here as quick as you can. Right?’

Ron and Hermione nodded mutely. Harry seemed to accept this and turned to the locket in his
hand. He took a deep breath and then stared intently at the snake engraved on the lid. Focussing as
much as he could on the image, he said, simply, ‘Open.’

Only what came out of his mouth was not in English – or indeed, Latin. It was Parseltongue.

After a moment, the locket opened with a soft click. Harry placed it on the table and stood
back, the sword held at his side.

A black mist slowly began to emerge from the depths of the locket; a swirling mass that rose
above the table before beginning to take shape. Harry recognised it immediately – it was Riddle. A
younger Riddle than the one he had encountered in the graveyard, but significantly older than that
which came out of the diary. He heard a low moan from Hermione, but shut her out of his mind. He
needed to concentrate fully on what was before him. Finally, the full form of Riddle was clear, and
the spirit like entity turned to face him. It looked confused for a moment, before recognition
dawned.

‘So, Potter,’ it hissed. ‘You have finally summoned the courage to face me?’ The voice was pure
malevolence, its tone biting.

Harry was astonished. How did it know his name? What magic was he dealing with here?

‘Where is the mudblood?’ Riddle continued. ‘You besmirch the good name of pure-bloods everywhere
for her sake, and you don’t have the decency to bring her before me? Perhaps I should thank you. I
would not want to be contaminated by such filth.’ His eyes finally alighted on Ron and Hermione in
the corner. ‘I see you have companions, but the mudblood Evans is not among them. Have you tired of
her so soon? Is this another of her ilk before me?’ The tone was leering, but now Harry understood.
This Riddle thought he was his father.

‘Do the mudbloods get you going, Potter?’ continued Riddle. ‘Do they pant for you? Is that why
you sully yourself with them? Does this one here beg for you in heat?’

‘Leave her out of this,’ said Harry, anger creeping into his tone. ‘This is between me and you,
Tom.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t,’ replied Riddle. ‘We need not have been enemies, Potter, but for your lust
for Evans. I could not abide you lowering yourself for her sake. And it would seem that you have
found another to rut with. I shall take great pleasure in killing her after I deal with you. I may
even deign to take her myself before she dies, to see what it is about them that appeals to you so
much.’

Harry struggled with all of his might not to look at Hermione at that point. He wanted her to
flee, but knew that she wouldn’t.

‘You will not touch her,’ he said, in a voice that reverberated with power and rage. An
intangible aura seemed to surround him now as his temper rose. ‘You will not touch her because you
are not worthy of her. No man is worthy of her. I am going to destroy you, Tom, but before I do, I
would like to put you straight on a little misunderstanding we seemed to have reached. I am not
James Potter.’

Riddle started in surprise, before recovering his composure. ‘So who are you then?’

‘I am his son. The son of James Potter and Lily Evans, and I am going to destroy you, as you
destroyed them.’

‘So I killed you parents did I?’ asked Riddle. ‘Good. It will not be long before you join them.
Your parents were powerful but no one can match me. Their deaths are proof of that. So what do you
think you have that they lacked, son of Potter?’

‘This,’ said Harry, finally revealing the sword. For the first time, the Riddle entity displayed
fear on its features. It seemed to recover after a moment, and a look of pure loathing crossed its
features. ‘Dumbledore gave you that,’ it hissed, before suddenly lunging at Harry.

But Harry was too quick for it. With a speed that took everyone by surprise, he stepped forward
and thrust the sword into the heart of the open locket. Riddle, who had been reaching for him,
suddenly gave out a massive, ear piercing scream, one so loud that it nearly knocked Harry to the
ground. Harry clasped the sword firmly, holding it in place and stared at the entity as it writhed
in its final death agonies. It withered as it screamed, struggling with all of its might against
the inevitable. Finally, with a last gut wrenching howl, it disappeared without a trace.

Harry finally let go of the sword, sweat pouring down his face. The locket was a smouldering
ruin on the table. He turned to face his friends but before he could he was engulfed in a ferocious
hug from Hermione, who had tears streaming down her face. Ron looked at him with an expression of
awe, before he finally smiled and then took them out of the moment.

‘Three down,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about, Harry, this is easier than I
thought,’ he added with a smile. Only his eyes betrayed what he was really feeling.

********

A few hours later, Hermione and Ron sat by the window together, both in silent contemplation.
Harry was upstairs sleeping – the encounter with the spirit Riddle had taken its toll on his
resources. Hermione was struggling to come to terms with what Harry had done. On the one hand, she
was angry at him for acting so hastily and opening the locket without preparation. On the other,
she was somewhat in awe of the way he had handled the situation. She had always thought him a great
wizard, but this afternoon he had emphatically demonstrated just how powerful he was.

And that was what was really bugging her, she realised. Harry had taken complete command of the
whole situation as if born to do so. When he had ordered them to back away into the corner, his
tone contained an authority that brooked no argument. When he had faced down the spirit Riddle,
there had been an almost visible aura surrounding him – the power seemed to be emanating forth from
his being. She had to admit that it intimidated her a little, if she was honest with herself. It
was not lost on her either that Harry had only seemed to really come into his element when Riddle
had threatened her. She still remembered his words; *you are not worthy of her. No man is worthy
of her.* She had never quite realised before just how much Harry regarded her, but she also
fervently hoped that he did not include himself in that statement. He was so worthy of her; it was
she who did not feel worthy of him right now.

‘A penny for them,’ said Ron, who finally broke the silence.

Hermione turned to her friend and smiled; his idiocy from earlier now forgotten. ‘I’m just
worried about Harry,’ she replied. ‘There are another three Horcruxes to destroy before we even get
to Voldemort, and I am concerned that he will have to go through something similar each time.’

Ron nodded. ‘Yeah, that occurred to me too, but I think he can handle it. I mean, he was bloody
amazing today. I never knew he had it in him.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I think I was always aware of what he was capable of, but he does
still surprise me sometimes. I was terrified the whole time.’

‘Me too. He seemed to take it in his stride, although he did get really pissed off at one point.
Did you notice?’

Hermione merely nodded. Of course she had noticed. She had hoped, however, that Ron had not.

‘I thought he was going to really lose it when Riddle started threatening you. I don’t think old
Tom realised he was opening a can of worms when he did that.’ It was said matter-of-factly, but
Hermione detected a question in the tone. And something else too. *Amusement.*

‘Yes, that did seem to really rile Harry. He’s always been very protective of his friends.’

‘True,’ replied Ron, ‘but I think there was a bit more to it today.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes,’ replied Ron. He let the ensuing silence stretch for a bit before continuing. ‘Oh, come
off it, Hermione, don’t play dumb with me. We both know why Harry lost the rag when you were
threatened. Please don’t insult us both by pretending otherwise.’

Hermione made to plead ignorance, but Ron’s expression changed her mind. Instead, she decided to
finally come clean.

‘Do you think he likes me?’ she asked.

Ron smiled. ‘Does a Centaur shit in the woods? Of course he bloody well likes you. It’s obvious.
Honestly, Hermione; for someone so clever, you can be a right dolt at times. Now, the question
really is; do you like him?’

Hermione looked at her feet before replying. ‘Yes,’ she answered, in a small voice.

‘Well, it’s about time one of you did something about it then,’ replied Ron. ‘Merlin knows, I’m
not an expert, but I know that nothing will happen unless one of you makes a move. And I also know
that Voldemort will join SPEW before Harry decides to do something about it. So my advice to you is
this; if you like him, you will have to tell him; because if you don’t you will never be together.
Here endeth the lesson,’ concluded Ron.

Hermione looked up at her friend, suddenly feeling a release within her. She knew Ron was right
– she had known all along. She had just needed to hear it.

‘Thanks, Ron,’ she said.

Ron merely shrugged. ‘What are friends for?’ he asked. ‘Besides, the two of you are beginning to
annoy me,’ he added, before quickly rising and heading for the kitchen.

Hermione gave him a mock-scowl as he retreated before turning back to look out of the window.
Her face split into a huge grin. *Harry really likes me.*

***********

a/n I know that it hardly original to use Slytherin’s locket as a Horcrux, but unfortunately I
have discovered (as I am sure many other fan fic authors have also discovered) that it is virtually
impossible to do a 7th year Horcrux fic without including it. The simple fact is that by
the end of HBP it is quite apparent where JKR is going with RAB and the locket and so its inclusion
was unavoidable.

Hopefully the remaining items won’t be so obvious….



7. The Art of the Potions Master
--------------------------------

**Chapter 7 – The Art of the Potions Master**

Severus Snape strode in silence as he passed through the many corridors of Voldemort’s hideout.
He had been summoned to an interview with the Dark Lord and was using this time to prepare his
mental shields for the trial ahead. He was accompanied by Bella whose presence was also required,
but neither had said a word to each other since receiving the summons.

They reached the great double doors that led to the panoramic room that the Dark Lord liked so
much. It seemed odd to Snape that a man who had committed such foul deeds in his life should be one
who enjoyed views of the natural world, but he was used to such contradictions in life; indeed,
sometimes he thought that his whole life was one massive contradiction.

Bella made to rap on the door, but Snape knew better. Instead he waited and, as expected, the
doors swung open before Bella had even touched them. The Dark Lord knew they were standing outside,
and it was yet another chilling reminder of his reach. *Never, ever, underestimate this man*,
Snape reminded himself.

‘Ah, Bella, Severus,’ said Voldemort as he turned to greet his servants. Snape noticed that
Nagini and Wormtail were also present. Voldemort, noticing his gaze smiled cruelly.

‘Ignore them,’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming,’ he added.

Snape said nothing – he knew he had no choice in being here. The Dark Lord had demanded his
presence, after all. Bella, however, demonstrated that her stupidity knew no bounds.

‘My lord honours me by allowing me to see him,’ she began, ‘I am here only to serve.’

Voldemort did not respond to this; instead, he gestured for them both to sit, before joining
them round a small coffee table.

‘I have asked you to join me today because I have decided upon my next move. You are my most
trusted servants so it is only fitting that you hear of these plans first. Besides, you will both
have some tasks to perform for me to make these plans a reality. I will not accept failure.’

‘My lord is too kind,’ exclaimed Bella, predictably*. If she were a cat, she would be purring
right now,* thought Snape. He often wondered why the Dark Lord tolerated someone as shallow and
fawning as Bella as one of his most trusted followers.

Snape was suddenly caught off guard as Voldemort gave him a piercing look, and it occurred to
him that his mind had probably been penetrated by his master. He must have let his defences fall
for a moment for this to have happened and he inwardly cursed his own stupidity. However, Voldemort
seemed almost amused by his thoughts and Snape was once again reminded how difficult a balancing
act he had to perform.

The problem was that the Dark Lord was unquestionably the greatest Legilimens that had ever
lived. If he were to get no readings at all from Snape then he would become suspicious as he would
know that defensive shields were being used against him. Then he would want to know why, and the
process of finding out would not be pleasant. Snape knew that death would be the least of his
worries. So in order to avoid this fate, Snape had to occasionally let some things slip. He only
hoped that the Dark Lord did not discover anything too offensive.

However, Voldemort did not seem too perturbed by Snape’s opinion of Bella, and continued. ‘Now
that my two greatest enemies are no more, I have finally decided to make my move. I have pondered
long and hard on the best direction to take and have considered many targets. After all of these
musings I have come to a simple truth; the keys to magical Britain lie in two places; namely the
Ministry and Hogwarts. It will be necessary for me to gain control of both of these institutions in
order to implement my new order.

Snape said nothing, knowing that Bella would leap in first. He knew that Voldemort’s revelation
was meaningless. A child could have told him what the key to power was in their world. Voldemort
was merely testing the mettle of his lieutenants.

‘My master’s wisdom knows no bounds,’ she began. ‘Hogwarts is the place to begin, and now is the
time to strike. The castle is empty, save for that fool McGonagall. We could seize it at leisure,
and deal with the Ministry in our own time.’

‘Interesting,’ said Voldemort. ‘Do you have anything to add Severus?’

Snape composed himself before replying. He found himself thinking faster than at any point in
his life. He had to be very careful here. ‘My master is of course correct in recognising the
importance of both locations. No doubt he is also aware that the school has its own wards and
protections? This is a mere triviality of course. What is not, however, is the timing of the
attack. I am sure my master has considered that an independent attack on either site will merely
serve to strengthen our enemies resolve to defend whatever location we do not attack first. Also,
an attack on an empty school will not have much impact on our world. It would be a blow to Ministry
prestige, but no more. For all its importance, the castle is just a building. However, were we to
attack when the term had re-started and the school was full of children, I am sure that the
Ministry will take a different view. If we were to attack the Ministry at the same time and capture
both locations simultaneously, then we will accomplish our goal,’ he concluded.

Voldemort said nothing for a moment and instead regarded Snape intently. Then, with a smile, he
finally spoke.

‘Once again you divine your master’s thoughts Severus. Should I be worried?’ he added in a tone
that, for Voldemort, passed as levity. Snape simply bowed his head. ‘I had already decided to wait
until term starts before launching the attack on Hogwarts, but I wanted to hear your views. You are
correct, Severus; both targets must be taken together.’ Off to the side, Bella looked furious.

‘Now what I want you to do is to come up with a plan for gaining entry to the castle – the
attack on the Ministry will be left to others. Although Dumbledore has gone, by September the first
the school will be fully protected by the Ministry. I want you to find a way round that protection.
Report back to me when you have completed your task. You will work separately as I wish to consider
a number of options. You may consult with some of the others if you think this is necessary. I will
summon you when I desire to hear your thoughts.’

Snape and Bella rose together and left the room, bowing as they departed. Once past the doors
they shared a look with one another. Both knew that whichever plan the Dark Lord adopted would mean
rewards for one of them. Bella was determined that it be her. Snape knew it would be him but this
was not what concerned him at the moment. His problem was of a different kind*. I must contact
Potter; they have to be warned.*

But how in Merlin’s name was he going to do that?

*********

**Wednesday 6th August 1997**

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in their usual location by the window. Despite having the whole of
the entire manor to themselves, they always found themselves gravitating towards this spot whenever
they wanted to discuss anything, or even when they merely wanted to relax. Harry was feeling
refreshed after a good sleep – indeed he had been out for more than twelve hours and was much the
better for it.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had mentioned the events of yesterday; instead they had wanted to try
and decide what to do next. Harry was only too happy to agree.

‘So that’s three down and three to go before we can have a crack at Voldemort,’ said Hermione,
casting an amused glance at Ron, remembering his similar comment from yesterday. ‘The diary; the
ring and the locket all destroyed. So we reckon that leaves something of Hufflepuff’s, something of
Ravenclaw’s and Nagini?’

‘Yeah,’ replied Harry, ‘but we can’t take that for granted. Was there anything else in
Dumbledore’s journal about this?’

‘No,’ replied Hermione. ‘He seemed pretty sure about the other items. He was convinced that Tom
would have picked objects belonging to the founders. He probably reckoned that only such objects
would be worthy of his soul. Makes sense, of a sort.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ replied Harry. He leaned back in his chair, his arms behind his
head, and stared at the ceiling. ‘If it were me, I would want objects that meant something to me. I
can understand the things we have destroyed so far. The ring and the locket were proof that
Voldemort is descended from Slytherin, so that is clear enough. The diary would have been a very
personal object to use; I mean what is more personal than a diary?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘As for
the other items, I just can’t see it. Sure, objects belonging to the founders are prestigious, but
would they really matter to him for more than their intrinsic value? I don’t think so. There must
be something else.’

‘You reckoned there would be something at Hogwarts,’ said Ron. ‘Any idea what it might be?’

‘None at all, but if I were him, I would place something there. It’s probably the only place in
the world that he has ever been happy. And if there is something there then it did not belong to
one of the founders. The only artefact we know of at Hogwarts is that sword over there, and it’s
definitely not that.’

‘But didn’t he leave the diary at Hogwarts?’ asked Ron.

‘No, Ron’ interjected Hermione. ‘Lucius Malfoy gave the Diary to Ginny, remember? He must have
had it all these years, and he wouldn’t have known what it was. No, if there is something at
Hogwarts, then it’s something else.’

Harry nodded his agreement. ‘Well, the only way to be sure is to go and have a look. I asked
McGonagall and she said it was OK, but we need to do it before term starts. It will take a while –
the school is huge.’

His two friends nodded grimly at this observation, both fully aware that their task had gotten
harder since yesterday, not easier.

‘Well, we had better start soon then,’ said Hermione. ‘The school opens in a few weeks, so we
don’t have much time. I’ll go through the journal again and see if I can glean any more
information. You two can make yourselves useful,’ she added severely. Harry and Ron looked at her
expectantly, glad at the prospect of having something to do.

‘You can both tidy up this place – it’s a tip,’ she said waspishly, before turning to leave with
a snigger.

*********

Rufus Scrimgeour arrived home after a tough day at the Ministry. He had just put in yet another
fourteen hour shift and the exertion was beginning to take its toll. He had barely seen his wife or
children these past few weeks and the worst of it was that it was all seemingly for nothing. His
Ministry had not yet been able to obtain any significant leads on Voldemort or any of his followers
and the frustration was beginning to get to him.

He had not heard anything from Harry either and he was beginning to wonder about this. He had
agreed to leave him to his own devices and to not ask questions – only offer assistance when
required. But that assistance had not been required. Harry had not been in touch since settling
into the Briars.

Rufus did not know if this was a good thing or not.

After removing his coat, he settled into his favourite armchair by the fire and poured himself a
large whisky. It was a single malt scotch – a Muggle drink he much preferred to Firewhisky. He was
just getting comfortable when Sukey appeared carrying a letter on a silver salver.

‘Master? This arrived for you today, but I do not know how it got here. I have checked it for
curses and it is untouched. Sukey does not know where it came from but it seems in order.’

‘Thank you, Sukey,’ replied Rufus, taking the envelope from his elf. He turned it over in his
hands; he did not recognise the handwriting. Most of his correspondence found him at the Ministry –
it was unusual for him to receive anything at his home. Intrigued, he opened the envelope, removed
the letter and noticed the name written at the top. Astounded, he lurched forward, spilling his
drink in the process.

‘Sweet Merlin,’ he breathed, before beginning to read the letter.

*Severus Snape*

*06th August 1997*

*Minister,*

*I understand that you may be experiencing an element of surprise at receiving correspondence
from one of your ‘most wanted’ enemies, but it is vital that you consider what I have say.*

*I know that Potter is alive. I was there the night of the attack and I saw both you and he
escape with the elf before the Shack was blown up.*

*You are now probably wondering why I am telling you this; after all, is Severus Snape not one
of the Dark Lord’s most devoted servants? The answer to this question is no. I do not serve
him.*

*In order to prove this to you, I want to meet with Potter as there are many factors that he
needs to be made aware of. The arrogant brat probably thinks he knows everything, but there are
forces at work that he knows nothing about. I need to apprise him of this information, but
unfortunately I have no means of contacting him. You, I am sure, know exactly where he is and so I
ask you to pass on this request to him.*

*Enclosed is a ticket for the opening of an exhibition of the works of the artist Turner at
the National Gallery which takes place tomorrow. It commences at seven-thirty and I will be there.
I trust that Potter will be there also. He must come alone. This is a very public gathering and I
will know immediately if there is any attempt on your part to trap me. This of course cuts both
ways. As it will be very public, there is surety that Potter is not walking into a trap. This is a
Muggle gathering; if I espy any witches or wizards except Potter then I will simply disappear. I
would suggest that Potter do likewise if he recognises any non-Muggles apart from myself.*

*I know that you do not trust me and that Potter certainly will not trust me. As a consequence
of this I offer a token of my sincerity. I would have you ponder on the fact that although I know
that Potter is alive; the Dark Lord does not. I have not informed him of his error in believing the
brat dead, and I do not intend to do so, whether Potter appears tomorrow or not. However, I must
stress that it is in his interests – and yours – for him to agree to meet me. The ball is now in
your court.*

*Severus Snape*

*PS – If Potter has any doubts about my motives, tell him that I know of the diary and the
ring. This may get his attention.*

Rufus did not know what to think after reading this. After taking a moment to compose himself he
looked up at the little elf who stood anxiously by his side.

‘Sukey? I know it is late, but would you mind asking Harry if it would be OK for me to come and
see him right now? Tell him it’s important,’ he added, grimly.

*******

Harry was attempting to orientate himself with being woken up at such a late hour. It was half
past one in the morning and he, Ron and Hermione had risen to the summons from Sukey who had
appeared at his bedside a few minutes ago with an urgent message from Rufus. Donning his clothes
that had been discarded when he went to bed, he asked had asked Sukey to wake up his friends before
heading to his usual spot by the window. As an afterthought, he had put the kettle on – he
suspected that some tea would be required to help them wake up properly.

‘Can you tell me what this is about, Sukey?’ he asked the elf, not unkindly, as Hermione handed
him a cup of tea.

The elf mutely shook her head. ‘Master Rufus will be here shortly. He said he had to see someone
before arriving.’

As if on cue, the fireplace roared into life and Rufus emerged, accompanied by James Walsh.

‘Good evening, everyone,’ he said briskly. ‘I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour, but
this could not wait. I received a letter today from someone and I think you should see it,’ he
added, handing Snape’s letter to Harry.

Hermione watched as Harry took the letter and began to read. His face clouded over immediately
and his eyes narrowed dangerously. She watched as Harry suddenly stood up and began pacing the room
as he read. When he was finished, he looked at Rufus, disbelief etched on his face. He turned
towards her and handed her the letter. Ron sidled up next to her so he too could read it.

‘Is this some kind of joke?’ she heard Harry ask Rufus as she quickly scanned the letter. She
could feel her own sense of outrage grow as she neared the end.

‘No joke, Harry,’ the Minister replied. ‘Whatever Snape is up to, the letter itself is
genuine.’

Hermione looked at Harry. ‘You’re not seriously considering going to meet him, are you?’ she
asked.

Harry did not reply. Instead he was looking at his feet, deep in thought. Finally he nodded.

‘Yes, I think I should. I should hear what he has to say, the greasy git.’ He looked towards
Rufus. ‘What do you think? Is this a trap?’

‘It could be, Harry, but neither I nor James think so. Snape is leaving himself wide open here,
and the fact that he has not told Voldemort about you should at least make us consider this.’

‘We don’t know that he hasn’t told Voldemort!’ exclaimed Hermione. ‘He could be just saying
that. We can’t possibly trust this man,’ she added, panic creeping into her voice now. She could
not bear the thought of Harry going to face Snape.

‘Look at his postscript, Hermione,’ replied Harry. ‘How could Snape possible know about that?
Voldemort would not have told him, so Dumbledore must have.’

‘But he killed Dumbledore, and he will kill you too!’ she screamed. ‘This proves nothing. I will
not allow this!’

Harry’s eyes flared at this last statement and for a moment Hermione thought she had gone too
far. Thankfully, she was interrupted by Rufus.

‘We wondered about that,’ said the old Auror. ‘What is he talking about? A diary and a
ring?’

The three friends shared a look. ‘We can’t tell you that, Minister,’ replied Harry. ‘It’s part
of what I must do and I swore an oath to Dumbledore that I would tell no one. I’m sorry, but I
cannot tell you.’ Rufus seemed to accept this with good grace. Harry turned to Hermione, but the
rocket she was expecting did not materialise as he spoke to her gently.

‘Don’t you see, Hermione? I have to meet with him. I have no choice here – we are at a dead end
at the moment and anything he can tell us could be useful. I have no idea what he is up to, but I
must find out, one way or another.’ He was almost pleading as he said this to her.

She considered his words for a moment before replying. ‘OK, but I am coming with you.’

‘Absolutely not,’ he replied. ‘You read the letter – he said to come alone. Besides, do you
think I would be willing to place you in more danger?’ he shook his head. ‘No, I will not do that –
I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.’ He held her gaze as he said this, his
features proclaiming that he would brook no argument. Hermione almost sobbed.

‘You selfish git!’ she exclaimed, tears running down her face. ‘Do you not think I don’t feel
the same? That I don’t make myself sick with worry every time you go off on one of these things?
How can you do this to me after what happened at the Shack?’ she cried.

Harry did not know how to respond to that. He merely stood and stared at her, and his lack of
reaction tipped the scales for Hermione who could not face this situation anymore. With a final sob
she stormed out of the room, leaving an astonished Harry in her wake.

Harry made to go after her, but stopped himself. Instead, he turned to Rufus. ‘Set this up,’ he
said, grimly, handing the letter back. ‘Do what you have to do; just make sure that I make this
meeting. Goodnight,’ he added, before heading up to his room. As he passed Hermione’s door, he
considered knocking to see if she was alright, but couldn’t summon the courage. Instead, with a
sigh, he headed into his own room and back to bed. But not to sleep; not after that, he thought to
himself.

*******

**Thursday 7th August 1997**

The next day Harry found himself at the table, casually picking away at his lunch. Ron had
barely spoken to him today and was walking around Harry as if on eggshells. At the moment, he was
in his room, staying well out of the way. Of Hermione there had been no sign – she had stayed in
her room all morning and neither Harry nor Ron had felt compelled to go and see if she was alright.
Harry knew Ron was staying well out of it; and as for himself? He was not brave enough to speak to
her at the moment. He smiled to himself sourly. Voldemort; Death Eaters and even dragons he could
handle – but not this.

He glanced up as a roar from the fireplace indicated that someone was Flooing in. Probably Rufus
he thought.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Rufus emerged and greeted Harry with a smile.

‘Hello, Harry. Just thought I would pop in to let you know that the arrangements have been made
for you tonight. I have arranged for a Portkey to take you there, so you are to Floo to my office
for seven pm.’ He glanced around. ‘On your own, Harry?’

Harry just nodded, not in the mood for pleasantries. He did not even glance up when Rufus sat
down across from him.

‘You have to talk to her you know,’ the older man said softly.

Harry looked up, an annoyed expression on his face. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ he asked
bitterly.

Rufus merely smiled. ‘Why, nothing of course. It’s not for me to tell you how to live your life,
Harry. I just thought you might benefit from a bit of experience, that’s all. Merlin knows, at my
age, experience is probably the only thing that I have left in my favour,’ he added.

Harry did not respond to this remark, so Rufus ploughed on.

‘I don’t know exactly what is going on between you and Hermione, but even a blind man can see
that you mean a great deal to each other. Don’t let this fester, Harry. You are going into a
dangerous situation tonight and I don’t want you distracted. Besides, how do you think she would
feel if something did happen to you and the last words she said to you were in anger? It would not
have been easy for her when she though you were dead – she is just worried about you. Sometimes we
have to make the first approach, Harry, even when we are in the right.’ He smiled. ‘I mean, I had
to finally approach you in order to make peace, even though we both knew I was right all
along.’

Harry looked up sharply at this but could see that Rufus was smiling broadly. Despite himself,
he did so too.

‘I know,’ he finally replied. ‘But I don’t know what to say to her.’

‘Don’t worry about that, Harry. The words will come when you need them. Just go to her. She
needs you.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must be going now; things to do, people to see.’ He stood
up to leave. ‘Think about what I have said, Harry. These are not the times to be falling out with
those we care for,’ he added, before disappearing into the fireplace.

Harry sat and stared at the empty grate for a few moments, deciding what to do. Finally, with a
sigh, he rose and headed towards Hermione’s room.

*********

Hermione could not remember a time when she had felt so useless. True, when she had thought
Harry was dead she had felt worse than at any point in her life, but this was different. When she
thought Harry dead, she could not do anything about it. This time, she felt she should have some
influence on events but Harry was proving to be too stubborn. The impotence she felt was what was
driving her despair at the moment. And her anger.

She could not bear the thought of leaving her room and facing him today. Since storming out last
night she had come to her room and spent most of the time in misery. At one point – just after she
had thrown herself onto her bed – she had thought she had heard Harry outside her room about to
enter. But instead, she had heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor. That was when she had
started to get angry.

She could not believe how selfish he was being. Did he think he was the only one that worried
about the safety of his friends? For the umpteenth time, she found herself beating her pillow in
frustration. Only this time, she was interrupted by a soft rap on her door.

‘Hermione?’ came the familiar voice. ‘It’s me. Are you OK? Can I come in please? We need to
talk.’

She considered refusing to open the door, but something in his voice compelled her to go to him.
He sounded so lonely. She rose and opened the door, turning her back on him as she returned to her
bed. When she finally summoned the will to face him, she saw him standing on the threshold,
uncertainty etched all over his face. Finally, he strode into her room, quietly closing the door
behind him.

‘Mind if I sit down?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Go ahead,’ she replied, sternly. She was determined not to break this time. She watched as he
sat down heavily on a small chair by her bed, sighing as he did so. They sat in silence for some
time, before Harry finally decided he had something to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ he began, ‘I know this is not easy for you. But I hate fighting with you, Hermione,
so I had to speak to you.’ He paused at this, considering his next words. ‘I have to see Snape
tonight, Hermione. I know it could be a trap, but I can’t ignore the possibility that he may have
some important information for us. I understand why you don’t want me to go, but I can’t help that.
So I am going to see what he has to say.’ He looked her directly in the eye before continuing. ‘I
know that I am not the only one who worries about his friends – I know you do too and that it must
have been awful when you thought I was dead. But everyone I care about seems to die because of me.
My parents; Sirius; and now Dumbledore. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Can you
understand that?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, Harry, I can understand that. But you have to understand something too. You do
not have to do everything yourself. I am here for you – so is Ron’ she added, almost as an
afterthought. ‘It is selfish of you not to consider our feelings in this.’

Harry looked at his feet. ‘I know, Hermione, it’s just that sometimes I think I can only do what
is the lesser of two evils. I would rather have you alive to mourn me than be killed because of me.
Is that so difficult to understand?’

‘Yes, Harry, sometimes it is. Do you not understand what you mean to me? I wanted to die too
when I thought you were dead.’ She was beginning to shout now, her frustration getting the better
of her. ‘You are not the only one who cares, Harry’ she added bitterly.

Harry closed his eyes. ‘I know,’ he whispered, ‘and I am sorry. Look, it’s probably best if I
just go. I didn’t come here to fight with you. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry, and to make
up with you. I hate it when we fight,’ he added, as he rose and made for the door.

Hermione watched him go tears beginning to form at the thought of parting in anger. She did not
want to part like this especially as she knew he was going into danger tonight. She remembered
Ron’s words from a couple of day ago. *‘Voldemort will join SPEW before Harry decides to do
something.’*

‘Wait!’ she cried. She waited until Harry stopped moving, his hand paused in mid air as it
reached for the door handle. ‘*Are you really going to leave me like this?*’ she beseeched him
as she rose from her place on the bed.

She watched as he slowly turned to face her, an eyebrow raised questioningly. She licked her
lips, suddenly more nervous than she had ever been at any point in her life.

‘I love you,’ she said, simply.

And in that moment the world shifted inside Harry and everything changed. A dam burst within
him; a dam that had held back his need for so long.

Hermione, however, could not see this change within him as Harry simply stood there, seemingly
unable to move. She felt a panic rise within her at the thought of his rejection. She’d had to tell
him, but the thought of him leaving her now was too much to bear. She made to turn away from him as
he stood rooted to the spot but was stopped by his soft words.

‘Hermione?’ he breathed, his tone one of disbelief and awe. She looked at him, willing the
ground to open up and swallow her and save her from this embarrassment.

He stared at her intently. ‘I love you too. I always have,’ he said hoarsely, and her heart
leapt with joy at the words, and suddenly there seemed to be so much light in the room. She watched
as he took one uncertain step; then another; then – wonderfully - she was in his arms. His mouth
lowered and found her lips turned up to meet the kiss. Her fingers were running through his hair,
his presence enveloping her so that she knew nothing else but the feel of him; the scent of him;
the all encompassing warmth of his passion and love. Voldemort; Horcruxes; the whole bloody world
did not exist in that moment as she finally achieved her heart’s desire and she surrendered herself
to him.

After what seemed like an eternity their lips parted and they stood in each others arms both
gasping for breath. She felt suddenly shy for a moment, but then he smiled; his beautiful smile;
and everything was suddenly alright.

‘Wow,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. He leaned forward to kiss her again.
She opened her mouth to meet his and this time the collision was softer; their tongues gently
exploring one another’s mouths. Finally they parted again.

‘I have wanted to do that for such a long time,’ he said, amusement creeping into his voice. ‘If
I had known you felt this way, I would have picked a fight with you ages ago.’

Her face reddened, but not with embarrassment; more with the flush of pleasure at his words. She
leaned into his chest and pressed him to her. She loved it here.

‘I could stay here for ever,’ she said, ‘I don’t ever want this moment to end.’

She could sense him smile at these words and was amazed at the sensation.

‘Me neither,’ he replied, ‘but can I suggest we make ourselves more comfortable?’ he asked,
indicating with a nod towards the bed.

They subsided onto the mattress and she laid her head against his chest and for a long time not
a word was spoken between them as he gently stroked her hair.

‘You really would have left me?’ she finally asked him. ‘You would have walked out on me in
bitterness and left to see Snape?’

He nodded. ‘I was too afraid.’

‘Of this?’ she asked.

‘Of this more than anything. I have denied it for so long, Hermione. I first started looking at
you differently back in fourth year but I repressed it; crushed it utterly. You are my best friend
– had I revealed my feelings and you rejected me, thing’s could not have gone back to as they were.
Even now a part of me is scared that this could destroy everything we ever had.’

‘Never fear, love,’ she said, the words thrilling her even as she spoke. ‘Never fear that. I
love you more than life itself, but it wasn’t until I thought you were dead that I finally admitted
that to myself. You must not be afraid of what we could lose; you cannot live your life like that.
If you are not willing to risk the pain then you will never experience the joy. Of the two fates,
not taking the risk seems to me to be the worst. Besides,’ she added, ‘I have no intention of
letting anything happen to us. I have you now and I’m not letting go.’

She felt him move at these words as he shifted round in order to see her face. His eyes
penetrated her and she felt almost helpless before him; losing herself in his gaze. Finally, he
leaned forward, and once again she was lost in the thrill of his kiss.

*******

A few hours later, Harry Flooed over to Rufus’ office, still in a state of complete amazement
about what had happened that afternoon. He had never felt better in his entire life and could not
believe the difference in him. Suddenly things did not seem quite so difficult anymore.

They had lain together for some time, alternating between chatting and snogging and Harry could
not remember a better afternoon in his whole life. There had been much laughter as both of them had
revealed how long they had denied each other and how silly they had been for not acting sooner.
When they had finally decided to get up and prepare for Harry’s rendezvous with Snape, Ron had
caught on immediately.

‘About bloody time too,’ was his only salient comment on the matter.

When the time had come to depart, Hermione had held him fiercely, unwilling to let go.

‘Stay safe. Come back to me,’ she had whispered in his ear, and he had looked at her and
nodded.

‘I will. I promise. I have good reason to be careful now, don’t I?’ he had replied.

Now as he sat alone in Rufus’ office waiting for the Minister to arrive, these memories warmed
him and invigorated him.

After a few moments, Rufus entered and glanced over at Harry.

‘Good evening, Harry. All set?’

Harry nodded, suddenly becoming very self-conscious under the older man’s scrutiny.

‘Good to see you have sorted thing’s out with Hermione.’ He noticed with amusement Harry’s
astonished expression and continued. ‘Oh, come now, Harry. I was an Auror for over twenty five
years. I was paid to notice things and some things are more noticeable than others. I’m pleased for
you both,’ he added with a smile.

Harry returned the smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Now, to business, Harry. I have turned your ticket for tonight’s event into a Portkey. It will
bring you back here whenever you need it. To activate it, all you have to do is say “Godric.” Do
not hesitate to use it if you feel threatened at all. If you do – and I mean even slightly
threatened – then get your arse out of there right away. Do not go anywhere alone with Snape – stay
in full view of the other guests. I don’t think he is foolish enough to try anything in public.
Now, do you have your wand?’

Harry nodded.

‘Good. Don’t hesitate to use it if you need to. This time there will be no Ministry charges for
the use of magic in front of Muggles.’ He was smiling as he said this, memories of Harry’s fifth
year hearing in his mind. ‘Stay alert at all times. Now are you ready?’

‘As ready as I will ever be,’ replied Harry.

‘Excellent. One final thing,’ said Rufus, as he quickly flourished his wand over Harry. To
Harry’s amazement, the plain clothes he was wearing was suddenly transformed into a black tuxedo
and a black bow tie. He looked up at Rufus.

‘Black tie affair, Harry. All the top nobs will be there tonight and we can’t have you going
looking like the janitor, can we?’ Rufus asked with a smile.

Harry smiled in return then composed himself. He took a deep breath before gripping the ticket
and saying:-

‘Godric!’

***********

Harry was on edge as he wandered around the numerous paintings on display, but despite this he
still found time to appreciate the artwork. On his arrival, he had been handed a glass of champagne
by a very attractive waitress and had been shown through to the other guests. He actually
recognised a few of them from the news – politicians; minor royals and some television celebrities.
He felt more than a bit out of place but no one gainsaid his right to be there.

He had taken a careful look around the vast room but saw no faces that he recognised. He had not
seen Snape either however, so deciding to blend in, he had ventured towards the first of the many
seascapes that adorned the walls. He had to acknowledge; Turner could certainly paint. He decided
he would like to come back here with Hermione in happier times, and the thought gave him a thrill
of pleasure. This feeling was cut short abruptly however, by an all too familiar voice.

‘Potter.’

Harry turned and came face to face with his former Professor – a man he had vowed to destroy.
Struggling to maintain his composure, he tilted his head at the man who had done so much to make
his life hell. He hardly recognised the man dressed as he was in the same garb as Harry. The greasy
black hair and the same severe features remained however.

‘Snape,’ was his simple reply.

‘Let us walk,’ said Snape. ‘There are many fine paintings on display – we should make use of the
opportunity to view them. Turner is a particular favourite of mine.’ He indicated with his arm that
they should walk. Harry assented.

‘So what do you have to tell me?’ he asked stiffly. ‘Why the need for all the subterfuge?’

Snape laughed bitterly. ‘Because I am one of the most wanted men in our world, Potter, why else?
There are some things that you need to be apprised of but I could hardly walk into the Ministry and
demand to see you could I? A short walk to a long drop is what I would have earned for my efforts.
Besides, you are supposed to be dead, remember?’

‘I remember. And you deserve to be dead for what you did,’ Harry replied.

‘Ah! But that is one of the things you need to be made aware of, Potter,’ replied Snape. He
stopped his pacing and looked directly at Harry. ‘I did not murder Albus,’ he said.

The anger that Harry had been suppressing burst forth at this. ‘How can you say that you snake!’
he hissed. I saw you with my own eyes! I was there, remember? You killed him!’

Snape seemed entirely unfazed by this. ‘Of course I killed him. But I did not murder him.’ He
ignored the confusion on Harry’s face before continuing. ‘Albus asked me to do it.’

‘What? Do you expect me to believe that? Why would he do that?’

‘I expect you to use your brain for once, Potter, instead of letting your emotions dominate your
rationality. Too much to ask I think! Now just listen for a minute, while I explain.’ He paused
before continuing. ‘You saw that Albus had damaged his hand?’

Harry nodded.

‘Did you happen to discover what had caused this?’

‘The ring?’ asked Harry.

Snape nodded. ‘When Albus destroyed the ring, he was struck by a powerful curse. Not the
Horcrux; rather the curse was on the ring itself. He had overlooked the fact that the object could
be evil even without the soul fragment. This, alas, was to his cost. We did what we could but we
could not stop the process. A lesser man than Albus would have been killed instantly. As it was we
could only delay the inevitable. He only had weeks to live the night he died.’

Harry looked sceptical. ‘Why didn’t he tell me this?’

‘Need to know,’ replied Snape with a shrug. ‘You didn’t need to know at the time. He would have
told you before he died, but events overtook us. Believe me, I regret this very much. It would make
my job a lot easier if he had told you.’ He indicated that they should begin walking again as he
said this and the two of them proceeded to the next painting.

‘You will forgive me if I seem rather doubtful about this,’ said Harry scornfully. ‘You couldn’t
have planned this – the attack on the school took everyone by surprise. I never heard Albus ask you
to kill him that night.’

‘Actually, you did,’ replied Snape, completely unperturbed by Harry’s tone. ‘What was the last
thing he said to me?’

And Harry remembered. *Severus, please.* He had always assumed that the Headmaster was
begging for his life, but now that he thought about it, the tone hadn’t been quite right. It was
more the tone of a man asking someone to do something they did not want to do. And Albus Dumbledore
was not a man who would have begged – it was something that had actually been niggling away under
the surface. He decided then that maybe, just maybe, Snape was telling the truth.

‘When did he ask you then?’ he asked flatly.

‘When I informed him of Malfoy’s mission. He did not want Draco to become a murderer and
instructed me that if it came to the point that his death was likely, I was to perform the deed
myself. He knew that by doing this I would save Draco and that it would dispel any doubts the Dark
Lord had about my loyalties. Besides, I had taken an Unbreakable Vow with Draco’s mother. I had to
do it or I too would have died.’ He gestured towards some chairs as he said this, and the two of
them sat down facing one another.

‘The attack when it came threw me completely,’ continued Snape. ‘I had no idea it was planned
for that night. Had I not been summoned to help I would have been in no position to do what I did,
and the chance would have been lost.’

‘Chance?’ exclaimed Harry. ‘Chance? You mean the chance to kill the Headmaster?’

‘Yes,’ replied Snape, simply. ‘You must understand this, Potter. *Albus was dying.* If
Malfoy did not kill him that night then he would have been dead anyway within a few weeks. I was
not happy about it but he pleaded with me. He asked me to make sure his death meant something, and
I think we managed to do that. I now have the Dark Lord’s ear, and Draco was saved from himself.
His death was not in vain as it might very well have been. You must believe this, for if you do not
he will have died for nothing.’

Harry was struggling to come to terms with this information. His heart was telling him that he
should be blasting this man right now for what he had done. But he thought of Hermione at that
moment and what she would say. He could almost hear her voice in the room.

*Think, Harry, think! This is not a time for emotion. It all adds up – you know it does. The
information all fits. Use your head this time, Harry – you will need your heart for later.*

‘Supposing I believe you,’ began Harry, carefully. ‘Supposing what you say is true. What do we
do now? How can you help me?’

Snape looked surprised for the first time that evening. It was obvious to Harry that he did not
expect to be believed.

‘There are a number of things you need to know. Firstly, the Dark Lord is planning to attack
Hogwarts and the Ministry as soon as the new school term starts. He is waiting until the students
return so as to maximise the impact. By taking both locations simultaneously, he hopes to crush any
resistance to his rule. He will lead the attack on Hogwarts in person. I do not know yet who will
attack the Ministry.’

‘Well, that is certainly worth knowing,’ replied Harry. ‘I will tell Rufus and I am sure that he
will have both sites well guarded.’

‘You are missing the point,’ replied Snape. ‘Ever simple, Potter; that has always been your
problem.’ Harry bristled at this but Snape ignored him. ‘The attack will be our best chance to end
the Dark Lord once and for all. The Ministry have no idea where he is and I am unable to reveal
this information – I am not the secret keeper. But we know he will attack Hogwarts in person on
September the first; we know he will be there and vulnerable to ambush. But no matter how many
Aurors the Ministry employs, we still will not be able to kill the Dark Lord unless you complete
your end. Never forget this.’

Harry did not reply. He knew he had a job to do but he had always thought he would have time to
do it. Now Snape was telling him he had just over three weeks to accomplish his task if they were
not to spurn an excellent opportunity. The task – which had always seemed difficult – now seemed
impossible. Snape seemed to sense his doubts.

‘Potter,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘we have just over three weeks. In that time we must destroy
the four Horcruxes remaining. If we can…:-‘

‘Three,’ interrupted Harry.

This stopped Snape for a moment. ‘Three what?’

‘Three Horcruxes. I destroyed the one in Slytherin’s locket two days ago. There are only three
left now.’

Snape’s eyes glinted as he digested this information. ‘You surprise me, Potter. Surprise and
please me. This is a new experience for me.’ Harry ignored the jibe. ‘So we have three
remaining?’

‘Yes, but now I am at something of a dead end. I don’t know where to look next.’

‘Hogwarts,’ said Snape. ‘I am certain he has hidden something at Hogwarts.’

Harry looked up at him. ‘I think so too – I have arranged with McGonagall to let me search – she
doesn’t know what for,’ he added in response to the question he was sure Snape was about to ask.
‘But even if I find and destroy whatever is there, I will still have to locate the other two and I
have no idea about them.’

Snape considered this. ‘The Headmaster believed that Nagini is one.’

‘I know,’ replied Harry, ‘but I’m not convinced. I shall just have to trust Albus, I
suppose.’

Snape nodded. ‘I am glad to see you still have some of your wits about you. Yes, you must trust
the judgement of the Headmaster. We have nothing else to go on. If it is worth anything, the Dark
Lord rarely lets his snake out of his sight. He trusts only Wormtail to feed it, for the pathetic
little creature is usually with Nagini. No one else is allowed to get too close.’

Harry nodded, accepting this information. ‘That still leaves one Horcrux though.’ He couldn’t
believe he was sitting here having this conversation with this man. A man Harry had wanted to hurt
so much only a couple of months before. A man that Harry had hated for nearly seven years now.
Snape seemed to read his thoughts.

‘You must learn to put your personal feelings to one side, Potter. We may not be friends,’ his
mouth turned down in a sneer as he said this, ‘but we share the same enemy. It must be sufficient
for now.’

Harry suddenly remembered just how skilful a Legilimens this man was. He tried to shield his
thoughts.

‘Better,’ said Snape. ‘Now, have you given any thought to where else the Dark Lord may have
hidden a Horcrux?’

‘Of course I have. I have hardly thought about anything else all summer.’ Harry was
indignant.

‘And?’ enquired Snape archly.

‘And nothing,’ replied Harry. ‘I have been trying to think of places that would be significant
to him, but apart from Hogwarts, I cannot recall anywhere that would be personal to him. He has
been a loner his entire life.’

Snape looked at Harry with a pitying look. ‘Potter,’ he began ‘the night the Dark Lord regained
his form, what exactly happened?’

Harry immediately looked guarded. He had only told Dumbledore and Sirius everything that had
happened that night and was in no mood to share the information with Snape. ‘Why do you want to
know that?’

Snape sighed. ‘Because the magic used to bring him back is some of the most complex and
difficult magic known to man. Certain conditions would have to be met in order to achieve success.
I need to know exactly what happened that night in order to confirm a suspicion that I have.’

Harry considered this. The memory was one he had tried to repress and he was not comfortable
talking about this to anyone, never mind a man he despised. However, he was aware that for all his
faults, Snape was a formidable wizard. He began to recount the tale.

He spoke for five minutes, only pausing when Snape pressed him for more details on certain
incidents. He did not tell him of what happened in the circle after the wands linked though. That
was for Harry alone and Snape did not – in his own words – ‘need to know.’

When he was finished, Snape was silent for a few moments, deep in thought. ‘It is as I thought,’
he finally said.

‘What is?’ asked Harry.

‘The potion that Voldemort used to revive himself. *Bone of the Father, unknowingly given;
flesh of the servant, willingly given; blood of the enemy, forcibly taken*. I know of this
potion. It is some of the oldest, darkest magic known to wizardkind; but it would not have worked
if done the way you say it was done.’

Harry eyed Snape warily. He forgot sometimes just what a powerful wizard the man sitting in
front of him was. And that he was a master of potions – one only had to consider the heavily
annotated potions book of the Half Blood Prince to know that. ‘Why not?’ asked Harry. ‘Why would it
not have worked? It happened exactly as I said; I am not likely to forget such a night.’

‘It would not have worked because the Dark Lord’s father was a Muggle. This potion requires
three ingredients, but it would be more accurate to call them essences – magical essences. The
flesh of the servant and the blood of the enemy both came from wizards – they both contain an
innate magic. However, his father was a Muggle; his bones would have no magical essence and so the
potion should not have worked.’

‘But it did work,’ said Harry. ‘You may have noticed that Voldemort is back? Tall chap? Looks
like a snake? Bit of a temper on him?’ he asked sarcastically.

Snape sighed deeply and closed his eyes. ‘I knew that this would be beyond your feeble
intellect, Potter. Of course I know the potion worked. The question to be answered is how it worked
when one of the fundamental ingredients was missing. If you can stop acting like a simpleton for
one moment, you might want to ask yourself what specific magical essence replaced the one missing
from the bones of the father? Or do you not think such a detail to be important?’ he added, the
contempt plain in his voice.

This stopped Harry cold. He knew immediately what Snape was driving at. Could it really be this
simple?

‘You think he used a Horcrux?’

‘Well done, Potter; you get there in the end. Yes. I think he used a Horcrux. The Riddle estate
seems an obvious place for the Dark Lord to secrete a fragment of his soul. Whilst he would never
call such a place home, it is the site that he revenged himself and his mother upon his Muggle
father, and in doing so destroyed the link to his Muggle heritage. Thus does it become a potent
symbol in his life. I suspect that the Horcrux is located in his father’s grave – it may even be
the grave. Well, the gravestone at the very least.’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because the ritual was performed outside at the graveside, that’s why. You could have been
discovered by any casual passer-by; and whilst I am sure that could have been dealt with, it was
running an unnecessary risk. It should have been done inside the house, away from prying eyes.
Which leads me to conclude that it was a necessary risk that drove the Dark Lord outside.’

Harry considered this theory, shocked at the implications. ‘Does that mean that the Horcrux is
destroyed? Its essence used up?’

‘Ah! A sensible question! There may be hope for you yet, Potter. But no, I don’t think that the
Horcrux is destroyed. Once the ritual was over, the Dark Lord could have returned it from whence it
came.’

Harry nodded. ‘At least if gives us something to go on,’ he said distractedly. ‘I will certainly
check this out.’

‘Be careful when you do. Whilst the Dark Lord no longer uses the house, I suspect that it is not
completely out of his thoughts. Tread warily.’ With this last piece of advice, Snape stood. ‘I have
no further information or advice to offer you, Potter. You must not fail in this as we may never
have a better chance.’

Harry stood also. He did not know what to say to this man. “Thank you” seemed inadequate and
Harry suspected that Snape would have been contemptuous of such sentiments. ‘Will I hear from you
again?’ he asked instead.

Snape seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I will contact you when the
plans for the attacks are finalised. Do not attempt to search for me before then. I am taking
enough risks as it is.’

And with that he turned and strode off out of the room leaving Harry standing alone feeling more
confused than he had ever done at any point in his life.



8. Preparation & Portraits
--------------------------

**Chapter 8 – Preparation & Portraits**

Hermione glanced at the clock for about the twentieth time since Harry had left and inwardly
cursed – the hands seemed to be moving backwards such was the slowness with which the time was
passing. She was worried sick and kept having to force images of a murdered Harry from penetrating
her thoughts.

Ron had tried to keep her distracted by – well, by being Ron if she was honest with herself. He
had bombarded her with questions about her new relationship with Harry and while she felt it was
really none of his business, she was glad to have something to take her mind off the waiting.

*‘So you finally got together?’ he had asked. ‘I knew it was only a matter of time.’*

*She had smiled at him. ‘Were we that obvious?’*

*‘Not to each other, but certainly to everyone else. I mean, even I noticed!’*

*She had laughed at this before replying.*

*‘Are you OK with this, Ron? It won’t change anything between the three of us?’*

*‘Only if you let it.* *You and Harry are still my best friends, regardless. Just give me
a bit of notice before you decide to launch your tongues down each others throats – that’s all I
ask’ he added with a smile.*

Hermione smiled at the recollection. He really was a terrific friend she thought. And he seemed
to have grown up an awful lot recently. Maybe sixth year hadn’t been a complete disaster after all,
she mused.

It was at this point that her thoughts were interrupted by a roaring from the fireplace and
Harry stepped out, accompanied by Rufus. The vice like grip on her heart was suddenly released and
with a cry of relief she launched herself forward and into his arms, oblivious to the broad smile
from Rufus and the eye rolling from Ron.

‘Oh thank Merlin your safe!’ she breathed into his ear as he held her close. I have been so
worried.’ She pulled back a bit so as to see his face, searching for signs of trauma. She found
none; instead she discovered a certain degree of confusion and excitement on his handsome
features.

‘I’m fine, Hermione, really’ said Harry, slowly disentangling himself from her embrace. ‘Come
on, let’s sit down. I have a lot to tell you,’ he added, taking her hand and leading her to the
sofa by the window. Once they were all seated, he looked at each of them in turn before launching
into an account of his meeting with Snape.

He had only got as far as Snape’s revelation that Dumbledore had asked him to kill him when he
was interrupted by Ron.

‘And you believe him?’ he asked incredulously.

Harry looked at his friend, knowing exactly what he was thinking, for he had thought the same
when he had first heard the explanation.

‘Yes,’ he answered simply.

Ron’s mouth was open and Harry finally had an idea exactly where the word “agog” had come from.
If anyone could be said to be agog with the news, it was Ron at that moment.

‘Why?’ his friend finally managed to ask.

‘You weren’t there when Snape killed him,’ replied Harry. ‘Dumbledore was pleading with him. I
thought at the time that he was pleading for his life, but now that the thought has been put to me,
I know that he was pleading with Snape to kill him. I mean, how likely is it anyway that Dumbledore
would beg for mercy?’ he asked rhetorically.

‘It does all fit,’ said Hermione. ‘If he was dying anyway, then this would have been one final
blow against Voldemort.’ There was awe in her voice as she considered the sacrifice the Headmaster
had made.

‘Besides,’ continued Harry, ‘Snape then gave me some vital information that tends to suggest
that he is on our side.’

He went on to reveal the information about the planned attacks. Rufus was particularly
interested in this and began making some notes. However, when Harry reached the part about the
Horcruxes, he turned to the old Auror.

‘Minister,’ he began, then shook his head. ‘Rufus,’ he corrected. ‘Snape did tell me more
information but it relates to what I have to do. I cannot tell you what that is yet, to my regret,
but it does confirm that he is not working for Voldemort. Could you remove the threat of the death
penalty for him and perhaps advise your Aurors to take him alive if they encounter him? And then
would you mind leaving us for now so I can discuss this with Hermione and Ron? You can return and I
will give you a full debriefing on what I can tell you later.’

Rufus considered this request. ‘Are you sure you cannot tell me Harry? You are asking a lot of
me on trust.’

‘I know,’ replied Harry, ‘and I hate doing it. But I swore an oath to Dumbledore that I wouldn’t
reveal this information to anyone. Snape also knows about this so Dumbledore trusted him too. If
you cannot act on my word alone, then can you at least accept the word of the Headmaster?’

Rufus eyed Harry for a long moment before replying. ‘It shall be as you say, Harry. I will order
the Auror’s not to shoot to kill if they encounter Snape, although I may have to extend that order
to include all Death Eaters. If Voldemort heard that we were making an exception for Snape then he
might get suspicious. Are you really sure about this?’

Harry nodded.

‘In that case I guess I will have to give the order. We will have to talk further about the
attacks though, Harry.’

‘I know, and thank you.’

‘I’m doing this because you asked me to, Harry, not because of Albus. I think I am enough of a
judge of a man’s character to know when to trust his judgement. I trust yours. I will be in touch,’
he added, before leaving for the fireplace and finally disappearing.

Harry turned to his friends, although that wasn’t entirely accurate anymore. *One friend, one
lover*, he thought, with a smile.

‘I think I know where the other Horcruxes are,’ he began. He had their attention immediately and
told them of Snape’s conviction that there was one at Hogwarts. He then told them of his thoughts
on the Riddle grave.

‘Brilliant,’ said Hermione. She noticed Ron frowning at her words. ‘Whatever else you may think
of him, Ron, you cannot deny that Snape is an extremely talented and clever wizard. There are not
many people alive that know of that potion, and even then, not all of them would even consider the
need for all the ingredients to come from magical sources. Voldemort would have known, and so too
would Snape. It all fits.’

Ron turned to Harry. ‘This could be a trap you know. Are you willing to risk your life – and
ours – on the word of Snape?’

‘I know it could be a trap, Ron, but I don’t think so. If it is a trap, it is a very elaborate
one. Snape could have killed me tonight had he wished.’ He did not notice Hermione’s shudder at
these words. ‘So yes, I am willing to risk it. I believe him.’

Ron held his gaze for a moment before finally nodding acceptance.

‘So what do we do now?’ he asked.

‘Research,’ replied Hermione. ‘I will look into this potion – if I can – and see if Snape is
correct. Then we will need to decide when to visit the graveyard. And Hogwarts,’ she added
meaningfully.

‘We will be going to Hogwarts tomorrow,’ said Harry. He noticed the surprise on the faces of his
friends. ‘Not to search for a Horcrux. I want to speak to Dumbledore’s portrait – it should be able
to confirm whether or not Snape is telling the truth. Agreed?’

Harry looked at Ron straight in the eye. After a long moment his friend nodded his assent. He
turned to Hermione who also nodded her agreement.

‘Settled then,’ said Harry.

***********

**Friday 08th August 1997**

Harry was nervous as he climbed the stairs to the Headmistress’ office accompanied by Hermione
and Ron. He had asked Sukey to arrange things with McGonagall to be sure that the portrait of
Dumbledore was present when they visited and she had generously agreed to his request. Now as he
neared the office, he was trying to work out exactly what to say and what to ask.

He was also aware of a growing sense of anger. The more he thought about what Snape had said the
angrier he had become. He felt betrayed – as if Dumbledore had somehow cheated him by the manner of
his death. Now as he rapped on the office door, he felt all the anger and frustration begin to
surface.

‘Good morning,’ said Professor McGonagall as the three teens finally entered the office.
‘Please, take a seat and I will get you some tea.’

‘Thanks, Professor,’ replied Hermione as they sat down. Harry glanced over to the portrait and
noticed that it was empty. Minerva caught his glance.

‘He will be here in a moment, Harry,’ she said as she poured the tea. ‘I was most emphatic in
relating your request to speak to him and he assured me that he would be present.’

As if on cue, the portrait form of Albus Dumbledore entered his frame and smiled benevolently at
his three ‘guests’.

‘Good morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione,’ he said. ‘It’s very good to see you all looking so
well.’

Ron and Hermione muttered suitable responses but Harry remained silent. He turned as Minerva
began speaking.

‘I will leave you now, as I presume that you will want to speak to Albus in private.’ She made
for the door, but was abruptly stopped.

‘No,’ said Harry, shocking the others in the room, including Dumbledore. ‘Enough secrets. Albus
may have had his reasons for not telling you some things, but I think that this is something you
should hear. I have had my fill of not being told everything, so I will not ask you to do the same.
Not anymore.’

Hermione and Ron looked at him in amazement as if they could not believe the decision he had
just taken. Harry ignored them.

‘Are you angry with me for some reason, Harry?’ asked the portrait of Dumbledore.

Harry turned slowly to face his former headmaster.

‘Why did you not tell me about Snape?’ he snapped. ‘Or about the little arrangement that the
pair of you concocted?’

Dumbledore looked as if he had been struck. ‘You spoke to Severus?’ he finally managed to
ask.

‘Yes, I spoke to him. How else would I have known what really happened? You could have told me
you were dying and that you had asked him to kill you. You had a whole year to tell me. Didn’t you
trust me?’ Pain was evident in his voice as he asked this and he could hear a shocked exclamation
come from Minerva, but focussed all his attention on the portrait in front of him.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and for a moment Harry thought he saw a flash of relief cross his
face.

‘Of course I trusted you, Harry; more than anyone else in my entire life. I was afraid. I am
sorry, Harry.’

‘Afraid?’ scoffed Harry. ‘Afraid of what? Didn’t you tell me that death was but the next great
adventure? Or was that a lie too?’

‘I was not afraid of dying, Harry. I was afraid of telling you. I was afraid of your reaction as
I thought it would distract you from what needed to be done. I knew that you would abandon the
search in order to help me despite the fact that I could not be helped. I knew nothing could be
done and had accepted this. I also knew that you would not accept it. I was going to tell you, but
the attack on the school prevented this.’

Harry was silent for a moment. ‘So why not tell me in the letter?’ he finally asked.

‘Because I had written the letter many months ago, before any of this happened. I did not have
the opportunity to amend it.’

This revelation stopped Harry in his tracks. His anger had dissipated now, and instead he felt
only sorrow for the man in whose image the portrait before him had been painted.

‘I needed you,’ he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. ‘You were like a father to me. I
loved you like a father. Do you have any idea how betrayed I feel?’

This last question was asked almost as a plea, and Hermione struggled to contain her tears at
the childlike hurt that was plain in Harry’s voice. She noticed that Minerva was crying openly and
that even Ron was looking somewhat misty eyed. They should not be listening to this – it was too
private.

‘I’m sorry, Harry. Truly sorry. Can you accept the apology of a foolish old man? A foolish old
man who was only trying to do what was best? I was going to tell you everything before I died, but
I was denied the chance. Events overtook us.’

Harry was silent for a moment before he finally nodded his head. He slumped down into a nearby
armchair and held his head in his hands. The others in the room were silent, waiting for Harry to
continue.

‘I never could stay angry with you for long, could I?’ he asked ruefully, his anger now
spent.

‘It is one of your great strengths, Harry, and why you will win in the end. You love
unconditionally, even when those you love sometimes hurt you. Thank you, Harry, for forgiving
me.’

Harry sat back in the chair. He looked at the portrait, but now had a glint of amusement in his
eyes.

‘Seeing as you seem to be in an informative mood for once, perhaps you can tell me why you left
me this?’ he asked as he held up the ring.

‘You got it then? Good. To be honest, I don’t know if it will be of any further use, but it is
an extremely valuable magical artefact and I wanted to make sure that it ended up somewhere safe.
Besides, I had the strangest feeling that it may yet prove to be useful and I learned a long time
ago to trust my instincts.’

‘Is it safe?’ asked Harry. ‘Snape told me it was the curse on this ring that did for you. Was he
telling the truth?’

Albus nodded soberly. ‘He was speaking the truth. In my haste, I forgot that the ring could be a
dangerous object even without being a Horcrux. I managed – with the help of Severus - to slow down
the effects of the curse but I could not reverse the effect. It was only a matter of time before it
overpowered me. It is quite safe now, however. The curse has claimed its victim.’

Harry nodded, accepting the words of his Headmaster.

‘How goes the hunt, Harry?’ asked Albus.

‘Not bad,’ he replied. ‘We managed to destroy the locket and we have a lead on the next
Horcrux.’ He did not bother explaining that the original locket was a fake. All Albus needed to
know was that it had been destroyed – the details were not important now.

‘A lead? What? Where?’ The excitement in Dumbledore’s voice was plain.

‘The Riddle graveyard. Snape put us on to it. He said the spell Voldemort used to regain his
body wouldn’t have worked with his father’s bones because his father was a Muggle. He reckons there
is a good chance that they used a Horcrux to provide the magic. Seems a reasonable notion,’ he
added with a shrug.

Albus closed his eyes. ‘Well done, Severus,’ he said to himself. ‘Well done indeed. How could I
have missed that? How could I have possibly missed that?’ He opened his eyes and smiled at Harry.
‘It’s just as well I died when I did, Harry; I was obviously going senile.’

Harry smiled in return and made to reply, but was interrupted by Minerva.

‘I hate to intrude like this,’ she began, ‘but would someone mind terribly telling me what a
Horcrux is, please?’

***********

**Monday 11th August 1997**

Three days had passed since Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore’s portrait and he was beginning to
feel a little frustrated, and a little lonely. They had returned to The Briars after listening with
amusement to Dumbledore explain everything to Professor McGonagall. Harry had watched with
increasing awe as her lips had gotten thinner and thinner as Albus related everything that had been
going on with Snape and the Horcruxes. At one point they had gotten so thin that Harry believed
they would disappear from her face altogether. He was glad that it was not just him that Minerva’s
stern look was reserved for. After finally hearing all, she had turned to Harry, Ron and
Hermione.

*‘So this is what you three have been up to? I should have known that it would be something
like this. Riddle never did make things easy for anyone.’ She had seemed to come to a decision. ‘I
will search the castle for you whilst you pursue this other lead. With a bit of luck, I may be able
to come up with something that Albus may have missed.’*

They could not immediately go to Little Hangleton, however, as they had decided to wait until
Hermione had looked into the potion in order to confirm Snape’s theory. Ron had taken the
opportunity to go and visit his family over the weekend. Harry understood – had he been in a
position to do so, he would have done the same. But as it was, he was still ‘dead’ and so could not
risk being spotted hanging around the Burrow.

What had made things worse, however, was the fact that he hadn’t seen Hermione either. He had
hoped that Ron’s absence would give them the opportunity to spend some time together and to develop
their burgeoning relationship, but she had spent a lot of her time in the library that could be
found in The Briars looking up information on the potion, and had then left him feeling a bit put
out by her announcement on Saturday morning that she too was going to stay over each night at her
parents house for a few days.

He couldn’t blame her of course. They were her parents and she did not get to see them very
often. But he couldn’t help feeling a little resentment, nor could he repress the feeling that he
had been abandoned by his two friends. His only company had been Sukey, so he had decided to try
and use the time alone to practice his magic, knowing that he would need every trick in the book
when the time came to face Voldemort. Unfortunately, his heart just wasn’t in it. It was difficult
to stay motivated when one was feeling so down.

He had been visited the day before by Rufus to go into greater detail about his meeting with
Snape. Harry had been glad of the company, and had detained the older man for as long as possible.
Rufus had seemingly sensed his predicament, for when he was just about to leave he had offered some
words of sympathy to him.

*‘Harry, I know you are feeling a bit put out at the moment, but it’s probably for the best
that Ron and Hermione have gone home for a few days.’*

*‘I know. It’s only fair they get to see their families – they must be missing them.’ He had
been unable to keep some of the bitterness out of his tone. Rufus had looked faintly
amused.*

*‘Not just for that reason, Harry. It’s important for your sake that they are noticed in our
community. You are supposed to be dead, remember?’*

*‘Of course I bloody well remember! People keep bloody well reminding me!’*

*Rufus had become serious for a moment. ‘Harry, I know this is difficult for you, but you must
consider how things look to those not in the know. Had Ron and Hermione been out of sight for much
longer then our enemies would have noticed and questions would have been asked. It does not hurt
our cause at all to have them think that they are merely getting on with their lives. Keep this in
mind when you are beginning to feel down.’*

*Harry merely nodded meekly at these words, knowing that Rufus was correct.*

*‘So what have you been doing with yourself?’ Rufus asked.*

*‘Not much. I have been trying to practice my magic, but it’s hard to do it own your
own.’*

*Rufus had nodded, and then smiled. ‘Then we shall have to see if we can do something about
that. We can’t have you getting rusty – not when there is a madman to face!’*

He hadn’t said anything else on the matter, and Harry was still a little curious as to what he
meant.

His thoughts were distracted when the fireplace suddenly roared into life and he quickly got to
his feet to see who it was. To his delight, Hermione stepped out of the fire and her face lit up
into a smile when she saw him. Harry’s spirits were immediately lifted at the sight of her – he had
forgotten just what her presence could do to him.

‘Hi, Harry,’ she said, rushing forward to embrace him. He held her tight, but something of his
earlier mood must have been noticeable to her. She pulled back from him a little and looked into
his eyes.

‘Feeling unappreciated, sailor?’ she asked.

Harry made to reply in the negative, but she cut him off.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know that it couldn’t have been easy for you. I was in two minds as to
whether to go home or not, but I needed to see my parents. I might not get another chance,’ she
added quietly.

Harry suddenly felt rather selfish. This could not be easy for her and it wasn’t her fault that
she was forced to make such a decision. If anything, it was his fault. He put his arms around her
again and held her tight.

‘Never, ever, apologise for wanting to see your family,’ he said. ‘I understand – really. If I
am honest, then yes, I was feeling a little unappreciated, but it doesn’t matter. Not now. So long
as you come back to me, I don’t mind.’ He relaxed his grip for a moment and – gently – he leaned
down to kiss her. She responded in kind and it was some time before they parted, she finally
resting her head on his chest. For the first time in three days, Harry felt complete. How was it he
never realised until now exactly how much he needed her?

‘Thank you, Harry,’ she finally said. ‘I knew you would understand.’

She led them over to ‘their’ sofa and they spent the next few minutes re-acquainting themselves
with each other. Finally they broke apart in order to catch up.

‘My parents are fine, although they are worried about me. I’ve never went into detail with them,
but they know something is wrong. They would never let me return if they had any idea what was
going on though.’

‘Of course they suspect something,’ replied Harry. ‘They are your parents, and you must have got
your brains from somewhere. It’s only natural for them to worry.’

She made to reply, but once again, the fire roared into life and after a moment, Ron stepped
out. He took one look at his two friends wrapped in each others arms and rolled his eyes.

‘OK, party’s over,’ he said. ‘I’m back now, so you will have to cut that sort of thing out. No
doubt the two of you have been snogging all weekend. Well, I hope it’s out of your system now – we
have work to do and can’t afford the distraction.’

Harry and Hermione made to correct him, but both stopped themselves. Why bother? They shared a
look. Then they both burst out laughing.

Ron’s look of confusion only made the situation funnier.

***********

Once Ron and Hermione had settled back in, the three friends returned to their usual spot in
order to go over the events of the weekend.

‘Well,’ began Hermione, a copious pile of notes in front of her, ‘I have been able to confirm
that what Snape said about the potion is true, although it wasn’t easy.’ She looked at them both.
‘The potion would not have worked using just the bones of his Muggle father – there must have been
something else. It took me most of the weekend to discover that, but I eventually discovered a
reference to it in *Moste Potente Potions.* Remember that one?’

‘Yeah, I remember,’ said Ron, with a grimace. ‘We used that book in second year didn’t we? When
you turned into a cat?’ he added, with a snigger.

‘Yes, Ronald. When I turned into a cat,’ replied Hermione with a sigh. ‘Anyway, it does confirm
what Snape says, so it will be worth paying a visit to the Riddle Manor.’ She was looking at Harry
as she said this, concern evident in her voice.

For his part, Harry didn’t even notice. His mind was at that moment dwelling over two years in
the past. The images of that night still had a tendency to rear up and catch him unawares, even
after all this time. Instead of hearing Hermione’s concerned tone, he heard the mocking tone of
Voldemort informing him that he was about to die. He shook himself free from the memory and faced
her.

‘I will be Ok, don’t worry. We just have to be very careful when we do this. It wouldn’t
surprise me if Voldemort has put some kind of protection on the place.’

‘I was thinking that too,’ she replied. ‘We should practice our concealment charms, and how to
detect traps before we go there. Do you think Rufus might be able to help us with that?’

‘He could,’ answered Ron, ‘but we won’t be needing him.’

‘Why not? Have you suddenly become an expert on this kind of thing in the past three days? Did I
miss something?’ There was more than a hint of annoyance in Hermione’s tone.

‘’No, Hermione, I haven’t suddenly become an expert. But I know someone who is.’ Ron was
enjoying himself right now. It wasn’t often he was privy to information that his friends
lacked.

‘Well?’ asked Harry.

‘Rufus contacted me last night. Said you had told him that practicing magic on your own was
difficult. He’s arranged for us to get some instruction from a couple of experts. They’re coming on
Wednesday.’

‘Who?’ asked Hermione. The excitement in her voice was palpable at the prospect of learning.

‘James Walsh,’ replied Ron, before looking at Harry with a smile. ‘And Remus,’ he added.

Harry smiled broadly in return. ‘Remus!’ he exclaimed. It would be so good to see his father’s
old friend right now, and he knew that there were not many people around who knew more about this
sort of thing than Moony. He turned to Hermione, who had the same look of excitement on her face
that he knew he was displaying.

‘Excellent!’

***********

**Wednesday 13th August 1997**

‘OK everyone, that’s enough for now – take a breather for lunch,’ shouted Remus, calling a halt
to proceedings.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and was pleased when he looked at Ron and Hermione to see that
they were both as knackered as he was. They had been practicing defensive spells all morning and
Remus and James had been relentless in their drive to improve the spell work of the three friends.
Harry was bruised and shaken as a result of some of the spells from Remus that he had failed to
counter, and he reckoned right then that if Voldemort didn’t kill him, there was a good chance that
Remus might. He had been working one on one all morning with his father’s old friend, whilst
Hermione and Ron had been put through their paces by James. He had originally thought that he had
gotten the rough deal as his friends were two on one, but he had quickly realised that James Walsh
was a superb wizard after pausing for a moment to watch him in action. His appreciation of the
ingenuity and skill of James had been cut short, however, when Remus had managed to squeeze a
stunner through his defences.

‘Stay alert, Harry!’ Moony had exclaimed. ‘Never allow yourself to be distracted – Voldemort
will not be firing stunners at you.’

After that, Harry didn’t have the time to see how his friends were getting on.

‘Not bad, Harry,’ said Remus, handing him a glass of pumpkin juice. ‘You were quite rusty at
first, but I noticed a marked improvement as the morning went on. You will need to practice every
day to make sure you keep your edge.’

Harry looked at his former professor with fondness. He had been delighted to see him again when
he had arrived this morning and could barely contain his emotions. On his arrival, Remus hadn’t
said a word at first; instead he had marched over to Harry and engulfed him in an embrace that
nearly squeezed the life from him.

‘*You have no idea how good it is to see you,’ he had said. ‘When I thought you were dead I
was lost. I felt worse than I did when I heard about your parents. Don’t ever make me go through
that again.’*

Harry hadn’t said anything to this – he had been overwhelmed with emotion at seeing him again
and didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he had contented himself with returning the embrace;
hoping that Remus would understand. He was sure that he did.

‘You OK, Harry?’ asked Ron. ‘I don’t know about you, but if this keeps up, Voldemort will be
able to nail us with a tickling charm. I’m knackered.’

‘I know what you mean – I had no idea how out of practice I was. I haven’t had a work out like
that in ages.’ Harry turned to Remus. ‘Are we to be doing this all day?’

‘Not all day,’ replied Remus. ‘We thought it would be best to put you through your paces in the
morning, and concentrate on theory in the afternoon. I understand you want some help in detecting
wards and traps, so I thought we could go over that after lunch.’

‘Thank Merlin!’ exclaimed Ron, the relief evident in his voice. ‘I never thought I would be
grateful to be doing theory lessons, but after that I reckon I would rather be in Divination. At
least I never got my arse blasted in that class.’

Harry laughed, thinking back to simpler times when their biggest worry was inventing the future
for Trelawney. Life seemed so much simpler then, although he knew he had no idea what a simple life
actually was.

They returned to the main room, happy to see that Sukey already had lunch prepared for them.
Even Hermione seemed pleased by this, her normal views on elf rights forgotten for the moment.
Harry caught her eye and grinned, and she must have known what he was thinking for she stuck her
tongue out at him. He laughed.

‘So, Harry,’ began Remus as they started to eat, ‘care to tell us what you have been up to these
past twelve days?’ he asked, with a smile.

Harry smiled in return. ‘You know I can’t tell you that, Moony. Suffice to say, we haven’t been
idle.’

‘Glad to hear it. I would hate to think that you were using the excuse of being dead to do
nothing.’ Remus became serious for a moment. ‘James has told me of the imminent attack on Hogwarts
and the Ministry, and of what Snape told you. Do you believe him?’

‘I do,’ replied Harry. ‘I was there when Dumbledore was killed, and what Snape told me fits in
with what happened. Besides, I spoke to Dumbledore’s portrait and he confirmed what Snape
said.’

‘You still took a risk by agreeing to meet him. I would not have allowed that had I known,’
replied Remus.

Harry tried not to look at Hermione when Remus said this, knowing that she agreed with him one
hundred per cent.

‘I suppose it was a risk, but it paid off. Besides, when I think back to the night of the
attack, I realised that Snape could have killed me there and then if he wanted. He had me cold and
could have done me in no problem. I was way out of my depth when I tried to take him on. I think
that’s what decided it for me.’

Remus nodded soberly. ‘I’m glad you appreciate just how powerful he is, Harry. But remember,
even Snape is just a squib compared to Voldemort. Dumbledore was the only one that was in his
league, and the only man Voldemort feared.’

‘Not true,’ interjected Hermione. ‘He fears Harry. Why else has he gone to so much trouble to
kill him?’

Harry was gratified by the confidence she placed in him, but thought that such a statement could
not go without comment.

‘Hermione, I don’t think that…’

‘No, Harry!’ she exclaimed. ‘I will not have you talk yourself down. When are you finally going
to realise that you are a great wizard?’ She sounded quite angry as she said this. ‘Voldemort has
been after you since you were a child and you have escaped him on – what is it now? – four, no
five; actually it’s six! Six times he has tried to kill you in one guise or another and six times
he has failed. He is attacking you for a reason, Harry, and it is because he fears you. And he is
right to fear you!’

Harry was astonished by this outburst, but the others seemed quite amused. Hermione realised she
had been raising her voice, and suddenly became quite coy. She reddened and looked at her
plate.

‘Hey,’ he said, reaching for her hand, oblivious of the others. He waited until she looked up at
him. ‘Thank you. I’m glad you believe in me, but I couldn’t have done any of that stuff without
you. Please remember that.’ They held each others gaze for a moment, alone at a crowded table,
before Harry kissed her hand. Their moment was broken, however, as Remus interrupted with the worst
stage cough in history.

‘Ahem!’

Harry and Hermione turned to face him, both looking sheepish.

‘When did this happen?’ asked Remus with a smile.

‘A few days ago,’ replied Harry, deeply uncomfortable to be discussing this. He noticed both Ron
and James suppress grins.

Remus’ smile broadened. ‘This is the best news I have had in a long time. I have been waiting
for this for a while and I was beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen. Well done.’ He
looked at Hermione. ‘James and Lily would have just loved you,’ he said.

Hermione felt tears begin to prick in her eyes. That was quite possibly the nicest thing Remus
could have said at that moment.

‘Thank you,’ she managed to whisper in return. ‘That means a lot.’

Remus held her gaze. ‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, before turning back to Harry. *Time to get
down to business again.*

‘You do realise,’ he began, ‘that your death has had serious repercussions in our world?’

Harry shook his head. ‘No. Rufus hasn’t said anything.’

Remus seemed surprised by this. ‘Really? I’m surprised. He has been taking a lot of heat
recently. He said nothing?’

Harry turned to James Walsh. ‘Is this true?’ he asked.

James looked uncomfortable for a moment. ‘I’m afraid it is, Harry. Rufus has been putting out
fires ever since you ‘died’. Many blame him for not protecting you enough and it is taking all of
his skill to hold onto office at the moment.’

‘But that’s not fair!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘Rufus couldn’t have done any more for me recently.’

‘I know, Harry’ replied James, ‘but that is the price that has to be paid sometimes. Don’t you
worry about it – Rufus knows the score. Sometimes you get the brickbats even when you don’t deserve
them. Usually when you don’t deserve them,’ he added bitterly.

Harry digested this information, feeling indignant at the injustice of it all. He vowed to repay
Rufus for all his help and realised that this could only be done if he managed to destroy
Voldemort. *Yet another reason to defeat Riddle*, he thought, his resolve growing.

‘Hurry up everyone,’ he said, pushing his plate away from him. ‘We have a lot to get through,
and the sooner we start the better.’

*********

**Saturday 16th August 1997**

Harry sat in his usual spot waiting for Ron and Hermione to emerge from their rooms. They were
heading to Little Hangleton this morning in an attempt to establish if Snape was correct in his
supposition about the Riddle grave. Lying on the table was the sword, his invisibility cloak,
Dumbledore’s journal and the ring. He didn’t think the latter two items would be of much help, but
he thought he should bring them anyway – the Headmaster thought that they would be of use and that
was a good enough reason to take them.

He felt quite good about himself this morning, as the exertions of the previous three days had
improved both his sharpness and his fitness. He had slept like a log the past few nights; dropping
onto his bed exhausted after each gruelling session, and he knew that Ron and Hermione were feeling
exactly the same. Their practice sessions had followed a similar pattern; with them concentrating
on duelling in the morning, theory in the afternoon and then some more combat after dinner. Remus
and James had really put them through their paces and he was feeling as good as he had ever
done.

He had approached Remus yesterday and had asked for a break from training on Saturday. At first
the older man had been very reluctant to grant them any time off, but when Harry explained that he
had something he had to do, Remus had acquiesced without further comment. It occurred to Harry then
that they were all trusting him a lot at the moment. Indeed, sometimes it felt like they were
looking to him as some sort of leader, much as they had once looked to Dumbledore. When he had
voiced this observation later that evening to Hermione when they were alone in her room together,
he had been surprised by her reaction.

*‘Well of course they are looking to you to lead, Harry. You really can be quite thick
sometimes, do you know that?’ When she had noticed Harry’s look of confusion, she had softened her
tone before continuing. ‘It’s like this; everyone knows that you and Dumbledore were working on
something in secret. Also, Remus told me that the last thing Dumbledore said to the Order members
was to trust you and to help you with anything you asked. Don’t you see? They all view you as
Dumbledore’s successor. He believed that you can destroy Riddle and that’s good enough to convince
everyone else to follow you.’*

*Harry had taken a moment to digest this new information. ‘And you?’ he’d finally asked her.
‘Do you look to me to lead us?’*

*Her expression had softened at his question, but he did not realise it was because of how
lonely he had sounded when asking it.*

*‘Yes, Harry. I do. But not because of Dumbledore. I look to you to lead us because I love you
and I know how great a person you are. I’d follow you anywhere.’*

*‘But I don’t want to be a leader. I just want to end this and then to try and lead a normal
life.’*

*‘I know, Harry’ she had replied, drawing him into her arms, ‘and that’s what makes you so
easy to follow. You don’t want the responsibility, but you take it upon yourself anyway because you
know someone has to. That makes you very special indeed.’*

He still could not understand this explanation, but he figured that he did not need to. If
people twice his age and experience wanted to view him as some sort of leader then that was up to
them – there was nothing he could do about it, save carry on as before. If he thought about it too
much, the responsibility threatened to overwhelm him, so he figured just to ignore it.

His reverie was disturbed by the sound of Ron and Hermione emerging from their rooms, both of
them ready to go.

Hi, Harry,’ said Hermione, coming over and giving him a soft kiss. ‘Ready to go?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be. I think I’ve remembered everything,’ he added, indicating with a nod
to the items on the table.

‘Good,’ she replied. She looked at him with concern, knowing what this was costing him. She
recalled the discussion they’d had on the best time to go to the Manor.

*‘Saturday night then?’ asked Ron.*

*‘No, I don’t think so,’ replied Hermione. ‘Why do we have to go at night? Wouldn’t it be
easier if we went in daylight?’*

*‘Do you really think so?’ asked Ron. ‘I mean, isn’t there a chance we will be seen if we try
this in broad daylight?’*

*‘There might be,’ said Harry, ‘but I think Hermione is right. The graveyard is outside of the
village – we might not be noticed. Besides; if we are spotted at night it would be even more
suspicious. I think we should go during the day.’*

*‘Fair enough, glad that’s settled,’ said Ron, rising and leaving the table. ‘I’m going for
forty winks if you don’t mind; we can practice later. I always feel better when I have a nap after
a meal,’ he added, before heading off to his room. Harry and Hermione shared a look and a
smile.*

*‘He’s unbelievable,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t think I have ever met anyone quite as lazy as he
is.’*

*‘I know,’ Hermione said in return, but her smile was now forced, her eyes radiating concern.
‘Will you be ok going to the graveyard, Harry?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘It’s just that I know
that’s where…’*

*‘…where Cedric died.* *Yeah, I know, Hermione,’ Harry finished for her. He looked at
her. ‘I would rather not go if that’s what you are asking, but I don’t have a lot of choice. I’ve
never had any choice in the matter,’ he added bitterly.*

*Hermione sidled across to sit on Harry’s knee and wrapped her arms around his neck. She
planted a soft kiss on his lips. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she began, ‘I know this must be so difficult for you,
but you know that we will be with you, don’t you?’*

*‘Yeah, I know, Hermione, and it does mean a lot. Truly.’ He paused for a moment, considering
his next words. ‘Is that why you suggested we go during the day? To make things easier for me?’ he
added.*

*She reddened and he had known that he had guessed correctly.*

*‘Yes that’s why I suggested it,’ she said, defiantly. Her eyes flashed in challenge, as if
she was expecting Harry to get mad. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her softly before
whispering in her ear.*

*‘Thanks.’*

Now it was time to leave and Harry was not looking forward to it. They walked to the front door
of the house, each aware of the novelty value of actually leaving the Briars by conventional means.
Once outside Harry took a moment to enjoy the fresh air. It was a beautiful summer’s day and he
basked for a moment in the warmth of the sun.

‘Rufus said that we have to go past that old mailbox at the end of the drive before we can
Apparate,’ said Ron, pointing to a rather dilapidated old box about 200 yards away. ‘The wards
protecting the house don’t extend beyond that point.’

With a nod, Harry set off with his friends close behind. Hermione skipped forward and grabbed
Harry’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze as they made their way off the property. Once in the lane
they halted and looked at each other.

‘Ready, Harry?’ asked Hermione as he took both her and Ron’s arm in his hands before throwing
his cloak over them in preparation for the Apparition. The concern was evident in her voice.

He looked at her gravely. ‘Not really,’ he replied, before pulling them off to their
destination.



9. To the Manor Born
--------------------

Thanks again to everyone who has taken the time and had the courtesy to leave a review. I’m glad
you seem to be enjoying it. I will try to keep it up…

**Chapter 9 – To the Manor Born**

Severus Snape sat in his room at his desk poring over his notes when he was interrupted by a
knock on his door.

‘Come!’

The door opened and in stepped Draco Malfoy. He approached his former professor tentatively.

‘I believe you wanted to see me, professor?’ Malfoy asked.

Snape regarded his former pupil for a moment. There was no doubt that the strain was taking its
toll on the young man standing before him. He had lost a lot of weight and his normal drawn
features now looked gaunt. His hair – usually so neat and glossy – now resembled an old kitchen
mop, such was its colour and state of untidiness. He was not handling things well, Snape concluded.
*Good.* This should make what he now had to do that little bit easier. He placed his quill on
the desk and leaned back in his chair, knowing that he had to handle this situation very carefully
indeed.

‘That manner of address is no longer appropriate, Draco,’ he began. ‘I am no longer your teacher
and you are no longer a student at Hogwarts. You may call me Severus. Please, sit down, Draco,’ he
added, gesturing to the chair in front of him. He noticed a pang of regret in the boy’s eyes as he
slumped into the chair and Snape mused that he must have been jolted by the reminder of simpler
times when all he had to worry about was homework and detentions. *Things change*.

‘How are you feeling, Draco?’

Malfoy was instantly taken aback by the question. Never – in all the years that he had known
Snape – had the man expressed an interest in anyone’s feelings, never mind those of a former
student. He was immediately on his guard.

‘OK, I suppose,’ he replied cautiously.

Snape nodded. ‘You always were a terrible liar, Draco,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘Remember, it
is I you are talking to; not some foolish schoolchild.’ He paused for a moment before dropping the
next bombshell. ‘It is difficult, isn’t it, being a Death Eater?’

Malfoy did not know where to look.

‘Dumbledore was correct in his assessment of you, Draco – you are not cut out for this. When the
Dark Lord discovers this fact – and he will; believe me, he will – then things will get extremely
unpleasant for you. You know this to be true.’ He was taunting the boy with these words but it was
necessary for what he had to do next.

‘How do you…’ began Draco. ‘What did…Is this some kind of sick test?’ he finally managed to ask,
his voice betraying the fear and pain that was threatening to overwhelm him.

‘A test, yes; but not the sort of test you are thinking of. You have a choice to make, Draco.
Right here and right now you have to make a choice. You can either continue as you are until the
Dark Lord discovers you do not have the stomach to serve him; or you can join me and take a stand
against him.’

‘You? Join you? But you are his most trusted advisor. You killed Dumbledore!’

‘I did, but only because it was necessary. He was dying; he used his own death to further our
cause.’

Draco looked stunned; his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. ‘But I cannot go
against the Dark Lord. He will kill me!’ he finally cried out in anguish.

‘He is going to want to kill you whatever you decide, you young fool!’ Snape watched his words
hammer at Draco as if they were physical blows, but carried on relentlessly. ‘You must understand
this simple truth, Draco. The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure!’

‘He doesn’t tolerate betrayal either!’ snarled Draco.

*Excellent*, thought Snape. He *does have some backbone after all.*

‘It is your choice, Draco. Remain here and surely die, or join me and fight – yes fight – and
there may be a chance of life. And if not? Then at least you will have died a man, and not as a
coward.’

‘Some choice,’ said Draco, quietly, looking at his feet. He sounded absolutely defeated. ‘How do
I know I can trust you?’

‘If this were a trap, Draco, you would already be begging for death. You have just revealed your
true nature to me. I could kill you right now and the Dark Lord would reward me. You know this to
be true. You must also know that the merest hint of revealing this conversation to anyone will mean
your death. The Dark Lord is not the only skilled Legilimens in this manor. Do I make myself
clear?’

Draco nodded his acceptance and his understanding. ‘So what do I do?’ he finally asked.

Snape hid his relief as he sensed the truth in Draco’s words. He was glad, not least because
this meant he would not have to kill the boy.

‘You will wait until I give you instructions. Do not fear – the time for actions draws close.
However, until that time, it is imperative that you do not go any nearer to the Dark Lord than you
have to. If you spend too long in his immediate presence, he will know of your betrayal.’

‘But if he summons me…’ began Draco.

‘If you are summoned you must flee, but I do not think you will be summoned. If you are then you
will go to this address,’ said Snape, handing Draco a slip of parchment. ‘If you are forced to flee
then you will remain at this location until I call. If I do not contact you within three days then
you must make your own arrangements. That is all for now. I will speak to you again soon.’

Snape picked up his quill and began scribbling notes. Draco stood rooted as he watched, knowing
he had been dismissed but hoping for something more. When it was evident that no more information
would be forthcoming, he turned slowly and made his way out of the office, closing the door quietly
behind him. He leaned against the closed door and shut his eyes. All he was aware of was an
overwhelming sense of relief.

***********

Harry, Ron and Hermione materialised in a copse of trees near to the graveyard at the Riddle
Manor. Harry had remembered the site from one of the pensieve memories and was relieved when they
all seemed to have arrived in one piece. The spot was ideal – it was secluded and it provided them
with the opportunity to make sure there was no one around to witness what they had come here to do.
Seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, he removed his cloak from the three of them.

Ron and Hermione quickly had a look around and confirmed that the coast was clear. Harry had
suspected that this would be the case as he knew that the villagers tended to avoid the old house
due to its bloody history. For once, the vile actions of Voldemort worked in their favour.

Hermione led as they gingerly made their way towards the gravestones. She continually swept her
wand in front of her as she attempted to detect traps or snares. To her surprise, she could find
nothing. Harry was grateful for her presence. He had been dreading the return to this place almost
from the moment Snape had voiced his theory. It looked very different in the brilliant summer
sunshine but he could not escape a deep sense of dread as they finally arrived amongst the
stones.

‘It seems to be clear,’ Hermione finally said, putting her wand away and turning to face Harry
and Ron. ‘Are you OK, Harry?’ she asked after noticing him stop suddenly by a patch of spare
grass.

‘That’s where it happened,’ said Harry in a strangely dispassionate voice as he pointed to the
ground in front of them.

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

‘Where Cedric died?’ Ron asked in a small voice.

Harry nodded. ‘He never stood a chance. We had just landed over there,’ he said, pointing to a
spot about ten yards away, ‘and neither of us had any idea what was going on.’ He grimaced. ‘Cedric
thought it might have been another test – you know, another part of the tournament. There was no
warning. It was dark and we couldn’t see anything. There was just a voice and then he was dead. I…I
still dream of him sometimes.’

Hermione held back her tears at hearing this, knowing that she had to be strong for him. She
knew that it had been a terrible night for him but had never heard the details of what had
happened. Seeing the spot where Cedric had fallen made it seem much worse, and despite the warm
summer sunshine, she felt a chill run through her body.

‘Then what happened?’ she asked. She thought that talking about it might help him banish some of
the demons from that night. At least, she hoped that were true.

Harry sighed. ‘I was too shocked to move. I just stared at his dead eyes and did nothing when
Wormtail disarmed me. He tied me to that gravestone over there.’

Ron and Hermione followed his gaze and the three of them approached the stone. It was weather
beaten and scarred; the ground surrounding it unkempt and overgrown. The inscription on the stone
was faded and rough, testament to long years of neglect; but the words could still be
deciphered.

TOM RIDDLE

A long silence ensued as the three of them stared intently at the gravestone. The sun was
shining and birds could be heard singing in the nearby trees, but the three teenagers felt as cold
as winter as they contemplated the final resting place of the man who had sired Lord Voldemort.
Strangely, Harry found himself feeling sorry for the man buried beneath him. He realised for the
first time that this Tom Riddle was as much a victim of Lord Voldemort as anyone. He had been
duped, Harry remembered; duped into marriage and duped into fathering a child. Whilst his
subsequent abandonment of that child did not speak well of the man’s character; he had nonetheless
paid the fullest, fullest price for that mistake. It occurred to him that this man had been
Voldemort’s first victim; a victim claimed before the younger Tom Riddle had even been born. Had
*that been this man’s destiny?* Harry thought. *Put on earth merely to father Voldemort?
What did that say about my own destiny? Had the elder Tom Riddle been as much a slave to fate as he
himself was?* It was a thought that chilled the bones on a warm day.

His contemplations were finally interrupted by Ron loudly clearing his throat.

‘Where did this crack come from?’ asked Ron, a thickness to his voice as he pointed to a deep
scar that ran nearly halfway down the stone from the top.

‘I think that’s from when he tried to hit me with a Cruciatus curse,’ Harry replied. ‘After he’d
gotten his body back, he had me untied and ordered me to duel. He tortured me before trying to put
me under the Imperious curse. I threw it off and when he tried to torture me again I ducked behind
the stone. His curse struck it and caused the crack, I think. I wasn’t behind there for long – I
knew that he would send his henchmen to fetch me so I decided to come out and face him on my own
terms.’

Hermione marvelled at how matter-of-factly he was discussing this. Actually seeing where his
duel had taken place was really driving home what he had done that night. She felt a surge of pride
course through her as she contemplated the courage he had shown. She had to fight to stop herself
from crying – not from sorrow – but from the pride and hope and love that he inspired. And he never
even realised that he was doing it. She reached over and planted a soft kiss on his lips before
drawing him into an embrace.

‘Harry, Hermione? Come and look at this,’ said Ron.

Harry and Hermione disentangled themselves and joined Ron up close by the gravestone. He was
pointing at a spot at the very bottom of the crack.

‘Look; the crack only runs down halfway because it stops at this mark,’ he said, indicating
towards a small square on the stone just above Tom Riddle’s name. ‘What is that?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know – it looks like some sort of family emblem,’ said Hermione, peering closely at the
square. ‘It’s been eroded by the weather so it’s hard to make out. It was certainly put there
deliberately; look – it’s been cut into the stone.’

‘Family emblem?’ asked Harry, doubt in his voice. ‘Let me see that – I don’t think the Riddles
were grand enough to have a coat-of-arms. Rich? Yes, but not nobility.’ He peered closely at the
mark, looking at it from a number of angles. ‘I’ve seen this design before,’ he said quietly.

Hermione gasped. ‘Where?’

‘Here,’ he replied, tossing her a small object. ‘On the ring. It’s the same design and it looks
like it will fit perfectly into that square. Dumbledore knew what he was doing all along,’ he
added, a note of admiration in his voice.

‘You think that this is a key to releasing the Horcrux?’ asked Hermione. ‘You never said
anything about this the night Voldemort returned. How could they have released the Horcrux when you
were tied to the gravestone?’

Harry looked at his feet. ‘The cauldron was already prepared – there was some potion in it
before I arrived. Wormtail dropped Voldemort into it before adding the bone, the flesh and the
blood. If they were using a Horcrux, it was probably already in there.’

Silence greeted this revelation for a few moments before Ron finally got back to the matter in
hand.

‘So what do we do now? Do we try it?’

Harry nodded. ‘I think so. Hermione? Can you detect any traps?’

Hermione scanned the stone for a few minutes before replying. ‘I can’t find anything, Harry; I
think it will be OK. Are you sure about this?’

‘Definitely,’ replied Harry. ‘I’m not going to muck about this time; if it is a Horcrux I’m just
going to destroy it right away. I’m not interested in talking to this one,’ he added grimly as he
put his cloak on the ground and took a firm grip of the sword. ‘Here, give me the ring please,
Hermione.’

‘No,’ said Ron suddenly. ‘If you want this to be quick then it would be better if I used the
key. Then you will be ready to stab it as soon as it appears.’ He grabbed the ring from Hermione
before she had time to react. ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘if there is a trap, it would be better if
it got me rather than you. I’m not the “Chosen One”,’ he added, with a smile.

Harry smiled back at his friend and the two of them shared a look that said all that needed to
be said between them. Sometimes, words weren’t necessary.

‘OK then,’ said Ron, approaching the stone. ‘As soon as I put it in, I will get out of the way.
Ready?’

Harry tightened his grip on the sword before nodding. ‘Ready,’ he replied.

Ron placed the ring carefully in the hole where the mark had been cut and turned it. There was a
soft *click*.

***********

Lord Voldemort – who at that moment had been conversing with Snape about the imminent attacks –
suddenly lurched his head up as if struck.

*No! How can this be possible? This cannot be possible!* He abruptly got to his feet, a
look of shock on his drawn features, and glanced over to where Nagini was being fed by Wormtail as
if trying to reassure himself on some point.

‘Master? Is there anything wrong, master?’ asked Snape, taken aback by the Dark Lord’s sudden
strange behaviour. He too glanced at the snake and saw the same perplexed look on the face of
Wormtail as he stopped feeding Nagini to regard his master. The two men shared a look.

Voldemort composed himself. ‘No, Severus, nothing is the matter. Please leave me. I have much to
ponder,’ he added with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘You too, Wormtail. Nagini can be fed
later.’

Snape stood and began to gather his notes from the table in front of him. He took his time
before bowing to Voldemort and slowly walked from the room accompanied by Pettigrew. He closed the
door quietly behind them, but before he headed down the corridor he could have sworn he heard a
soft *crack* of Apparition coming from within the room.

*What the hell was all that about?* he wondered.

***********

Harry didn’t waste any time. As soon as he saw a black mist begin to emerge from the gravestone,
he thrust the sword of Gryffindor with all of his might straight into the heart of the emblem.

A loud scream – such as that which had accompanied the destruction of the locket – could be
heard as the soul fragment within was destroyed. Harry could feel the sweat pouring down his face
as he struggled to contain the shockwave, but with a final lurch the soul fragment disappeared into
the ether. Harry collapsed to his knees.

‘Harry! Are you all right?’ cried Hermione, rushing to his side.

‘I’m fine,’ he gasped in reply. ‘Just need a minute to get my breath back.’ He tried to get to
his feet but the effort proved too much for him and he collapsed into a heap. ‘Just give me a
minute,’ he wheezed, clearly exhausted.

Ron, who had been watching the whole thing in amazement, was suddenly distracted by a muted
*crack* that could just be heard behind him. He turned and – to his absolute horror – was
confronted by the serpentine form of Lord Voldemort who had Apparated to a spot about fifty yards
from where he was standing and who was clearly trying to get his bearings. It was at this point
that Hermione also stood to investigate the source of the noise. Voldemort finally turned and
spotted the two of them as they peered out from behind the gravestone. A flash of pure rage could
be seen on his slit features and he raised his wand. For a fleeting instant Ron was rooted to the
spot, but then his legs decided that his brain wasn’t working fast enough and with a speed that
would have astonished any casual observer, he thrust himself to the ground behind the grave,
pulling Hermione down with him. Grabbing the invisibility cloak, he threw it over the still
struggling Harry.

‘It’s Voldemort,’ he hissed at Harry. ‘He’s here; get your shields up, Harry. Then we have to
get the hell out of here. Now!’ As he said this, a chunk of the gravestone was suddenly blasted
over the three of them as a result of a curse from Voldemort. Ron thrust his wand round the side of
the stone and randomly fired curses in the general direction of the Dark Lord. He didn’t expect to
hit him, but figured that it might keep him occupied. Glancing at Hermione, he noticed that she was
trying to help Harry to his feet.

‘Keep him down, you idiot!’ he hissed at her. ‘He mustn’t be seen! Now, can you get us out of
here?’

Ron froze before he heard the reply for he suddenly felt a chill run right through him as he
became aware of a shadow passing overhead. Glancing at Hermione, he noticed a look of horror on her
face as he heard a soft *thud* behind him. Somehow, Voldemort had got past them. He closed his
eyes in despair. *This was it.*

‘Who dares to challenge Lord Voldemort? Show yourselves to me! I command you!’

The voice was pure malevolence; a hissing caustic sound that was filled with rage and it left
Ron rooted to the spot. He noticed that Hermione seemed to be feeling the same helplessness as he,
for she too seemed unable to move. Of Harry there was no sound; it was as if he was not there.

‘I said show yourselves!’ I would see you before you die!’ repeated the voice. Ron realised that
Voldemort was actually struggling to breathe, such was the anger he was feeling. He had no time to
dwell on that however, as in an instant he felt himself being forced to stand against his will. A
moment later, both he and Hermione found themselves standing together facing the full wrath of Lord
Voldemort who was standing a mere ten yards away, teeth bared and eyes flaring. Ron found himself
completely unable to move. *How had Harry possibly faced this man and escaped?*

‘So, a Weasley,’ hissed Voldemort. ‘Ron Weasley, I presume. Which means you must be the mudblood
Granger,’ he continued, looking at Hermione. ‘How touching; Potter’s little helpers carrying on his
work. You must be missing him?’ he asked viciously, not expecting a reply. ‘Well, do not distress
yourselves, you will be joining him shortly.’ He raised his wand.

Ron felt strangely calm at that moment, accepting his fate.

‘*Avada Kedavra.’*

Ron’s entire world in that instant was a jet of green light that shot towards him. He raised his
arm and yelled in defiance, knowing the gesture to be futile.

***********

Harry struggled with all of his might to keep his mental shields up as he lay panting on the
grass. He knew that Voldemort would sense him if he dropped his guard for even a moment.
Thankfully, Riddle seemed to be in such a state of apoplexy that he was not at his full mental
capacity at the moment.

*Thank Merlin Ron had thrown the cloak over him*, he thought. He summoned what remaining
strength he had left and rolled over onto his stomach. Clawing at the earth in front of him, he
dragged himself as quietly as he could towards his friends. Inch by inch he pulled himself closer
until he was finally near enough to touch them. His heart was pounding in his chest and the
exertion was blurring his vision; the sweat cascading down his face. He had reached breaking point
and for a brief moment he felt he could give no more. Then he heard the fateful words; words that
suddenly gave him a new lease of life, a new strength.

*‘Avada Kedavra’*

With one last effort he reached and grabbed both Ron and Hermione by the ankle before pulling
them all away back to the Briars.

*Please God, I was quick enough*, he thought despairingly.

***********

Arthur Weasley was enjoying a quiet moment of peace as he read that day’s copy of the *Daily
Prophet* in the garden of the Burrow. He was taking a sip from a glass of pumpkin juice when the
tranquillity was shattered by the sudden *crack* of numerous Apparitions that could be heard
coming from just outside the Burrow’s wards. He immediately got to his feet and snatched up his
wand, ready to face the intruders.

He sighed with relief. It was James Walsh.

‘Mr Walsh,’ he began with a smile, before seeing the expression on the Auror’s face. ‘What’s
wrong?’ he asked, a sudden feeling of dread overwhelming him.

‘Arthur, I don’t have time to explain,’ began James, ‘but it is imperative that you get your
family and come with me. You must leave here as soon as possible. We think Voldemort may be about
to attack.’

Arthur did not waste any time. Within a few minutes he, Molly and Ginny were standing in the
garden, a few valuable possessions stashed hastily in an old trunk.

‘What about the rest of my family?’ he asked James. ‘They don’t all live here anymore.’

‘Aurors are fetching them as we speak. The Grangers too, for that matter.’

‘What’s happened?’ asked Arthur. ‘Is Ron OK?’

‘He’s fine. I’ll explain when we get there,’ replied James, ‘but for now we have to go. We are
taking you to a safe house – all of you. Here; take this, it’s a Portkey,’ he added, thrusting an
old snuff box towards Arthur. He took it and made sure that Molly and Ginny had grabbed a hold of
it. Within a few seconds, he felt the familiar tug at his navel and the three of them were thrust
towards their new destination.

***********

Lord Voldemort arrived back in the drawing room of his manor, his face a mask of fury. *How
had they gotten away?* He had been certain that he’d had them under his full control and yet
they had somehow managed to Disapparate from his presence.

No matter; how they escaped was irrelevant now, what mattered was that they had escaped. At
least he was now aware of this new threat and he would deal with it in the same way he dealt with
anyone who dared to challenge him. He began heading towards the main hall, his mind racing.

How had they known? His Horcruxes were his most closely guarded secret and yet it was clear that
these two brats knew of them. He had examined the gravestone and had been horrified to discover
that the Horcrux that had lain within was now destroyed.

*Potter.*

Potter must have discovered the secret before his death. This meant that Dumbledore must have
known too. This stopped the Dark Lord in his tracks for a moment. If Dumbledore and Potter had
discovered his secret, then how many of his Horcruxes had they found?

It was the diary, he realised. Dumbledore must have wondered about the true nature of the diary
and acted accordingly. He had to contain this information; no one else must discover the truth. For
now, he would have to deal with those who did know.

***********

Severus Snape was appalled. Never had he seen the Dark Lord in such a mood and that really was
saying something. He had materialised in their midst and had demanded the immediate presence of
every senior Death Eater. Snape was relieved to find that Draco had not been included in the
summons.

Once the hastily arranged audience had commenced, the Dark Lord had begun a rant against blood
traitors and mudbloods. True, it was not the first time that he had spouted such filth, but this
time there was a difference. He had ended his rant with a demand for an immediate attack on the
Weasley family and also on the Muggle Grangers. Attacks that he would lead in person.

Snape knew right then that something significant had occurred.

*He knows. He knows someone is after his Horcruxes*. The only saving grace seemed to be the
fact that the Dark Lord had not discovered the truth about Potter. Had that been the case, Snape
suspected that many in this room would be lucky to escape with their lives. As it was, he knew that
he himself could not – must not – join in any attack on the Burrow. If something had happened, the
Ministry would be sure to have evacuated the family and would be lying in wait. It said much for
the Dark Lord’s current frame of mind that he had not considered this point. He also knew that he
had to tread extremely carefully in the next few minutes.

‘Master? He asked tentatively. ‘If I may be permitted to speak?’

The room held its breath as Voldemort turned to Snape, the fury plain on his distorted
features.

‘Proceed, Severus, though I warn you, this had better be worth your master’s attention.’

Snape bowed his head. ‘Thank you, master.’ He composed himself, wondering the best way to
approach this. Vanity, he knew, was always a good place to start with this man.

‘Whilst I would never dream of questioning my master’s orders, I cannot help but wonder if it is
sufficient to merely attack the Weasleys at this juncture. In view of the fact that we are nearing
your final victory, master, would it not perhaps be more gratifying if you were to deal with the
traitors once you have achieved your goal? It would prove useful as an example to others how the
mighty lord deals with those who dare defy him. These traitors and mudblood fools are not worthy of
my master’s attention at the moment – it can be likened to taking a hammer to crack an egg. And I
believe that they will be guarded. Whilst these guards are obviously a trivial matter for my lord,
I cannot help but think that it would be better to wait until the final victory? And if not, would
it not be better if my master left such a trivial matter to be dealt with by his less worthy
minions? The Weasleys can be brought to you here, my lord; to be punished at your leisure. I am
sure there are many here who would be honoured to carry out your wishes in this matter.’ *Time
for a gamble*, thought Snape. ‘I myself would be only too grateful to perform this duty, if it
pleases you, master.’ He kept his head low, his eyes averted. He only hoped he had not gone too far
this time.

Voldemort regarded him for a long moment. Finally he leaned back in his chair and let out a deep
breath; evidently a little calmer for having considered Snape’s words.

‘There is much in what you say, Severus. Perhaps I have been too hasty. Perhaps it will be
sending out the wrong message at this juncture to lower myself to go chasing after this filth. Yes,
indeed. I will have them brought before me. Then they will feel the full wrath of Lord
Voldemort.’

‘My master is too kind,’ replied Snape. ‘I would be honoured to obey any orders he deems fit to
give me.’

‘As will I, master!’ exclaimed Bella. ‘It would be an honour to perform this task for you.
Please grant this to me, master, I beg you.’

*The gamble worked then*, thought Snape as he watched the Dark Lord turn to Lestrange.

‘It shall be so,’ said Voldemort. ‘You, Bella, shall lead this attack. You shall decide who to
take and who to leave behind,’ he added, with a glance at Snape. ‘Do not fail me, Bella.’

‘Of course not, master. Thank you, master,’ she crooned.

Snape glanced up at Bella to see the flash of triumph on her face. He knew she would not select
him to go on this mission. He had been banking on her doing exactly what she had just done.

He stood with the others as the Dark Lord rose to leave them. *Thank Merlin some people are so
predictable*, he thought to himself.

***********

Harry tried not to wince as he was crushed by a fierce hug from Molly Weasley. He had been
expecting something like this as it had dawned on him that none of the Weasleys (save Ron) had seen
him since his ‘death,’ but he was still overwhelmed by their reaction at seeing him again. Arthur
had embraced him with a smile before Molly had the chance to suffocate him. Her tears were flowing
freely.

After disentangling himself from her clutches, he turned and was immediately gripped in a
vice-like embrace from Ginny. She too was sobbing and clung to him as if her life depended on it.
Glancing over her shoulder, Harry noticed Hermione watching them; her lips pursed so thin that he
reckoned Minerva would have wept for joy in the knowledge that there was someone to continue
*that* particular tradition after she herself was gone from this world.

For her part, Hermione wasn’t too happy with the train of events that had led to their peace in
the Briars being shattered, but she knew it was necessary. She thought back to earlier when they
had arrived back from the graveyard. Harry – as usual – had taken control of the situation, despite
the fact he was still clearly exhausted.

*‘Are you two OK?’ he had asked as soon as they had arrived, panic evident in his voice. He
had been breathing heavily and had struggled to raise himself up high enough to shake them both as
they had all landed prone on the ground.*

*‘I…I think so,’ said Ron, white faced and obviously shaken. He had turned to the side and had
vomited onto the grass.*

*‘Hermione?’ Harry had asked next as he enveloped her in his arms. He had been crying; from
fright more than anything else and she had felt his heart hammering away in his chest.*

*‘I’m OK, Harry,’ she had replied, although her voice had cracked, giving away the lie. He had
held her so tight that she could barely breathe.*

*‘I’m sorry I took so long,’ Harry had continued, slowly recovering. ‘I was dead beat after
destroying the Horcrux and it was taking all of my strength to keep my mental shields up so
Voldemort couldn’t sense me.’*

*‘Do you think he did?’ Ron had asked, wiping his chin with the back of his sleeve.*

*Harry considered the question. ‘No,’ he finally replied. ‘You need to be in control of your
emotions to be successful at legilimency; I think Riddle was too angry to notice me.’ He had
regarded Ron for a moment. ‘Just so you know; you were bloody amazing today. We would have been
dead meat had it not been for you.’*

*Ron had flushed scarlet at the praise. Harry had turned back to her.*

*‘It was a trap, wasn’t it? He had it arranged so that he would sense if anyone tried to
release the Horcrux?’*

*She had merely nodded her agreement.*

*Harry had looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders at that moment.
With a deep sigh, he had looked to the sky and shouted:-*

*‘Sukey!’*

*The little house had elf appeared immediately with a loud crack.*

*‘Sukey,’ began Harry, ‘it is vital that you find your master and tell him that he must come
and see me at once. Tell him that it is of the utmost importance that he gets here as soon as
possible. Do you think you can do that for me please?’ he had asked, not unkindly.*

*Sukey had nodded before disappearing. Harry had led them back to the house and a few minutes
later, Rufus had arrived.*

*‘Harry? What’s wrong?’ he had asked without preamble.*

*‘Rufus, I have reason to believe that Voldemort will attempt to attack any of the Weasleys
that he can get his hands on and that he will do it soon.’ He had glanced at Hermione. ‘I also
believe he will go after Hermione’s parents.’ He had ignored the sudden yelp of fear that had
escaped her lips. ‘Do you think you would be able to get them all somewhere safe as soon as you
can? And I **mean** as soon as you possibly can – we have no time to lose.*

The result of this hasty request from Harry was that within two hours, the Briars was bursting
with people as all of the Weasleys and her own parents were brought to the safe house. As Rufus had
explained; ‘*We never had time to set up anywhere else. This will have to do for the
moment.’*

She had been pleased to see her parents, of course, and had spent some time with them as they
had arrived first; but as they were now settling into their room, things had calmed down enough for
her to escape for a few moments alone. She knew that she was still in a state of some shock after
the events in the graveyard.

As she was leaving the room she listened as Fred and George had some fun at Harry’s expense.

‘We don’t know what to call you now…’ began Fred.

‘…as the “Boy Who Lived” isn’t appropriate anymore…’ continued George.

‘…we gave the matter our utmost attention…’

‘…but the best we could come up with was “The Boy Who Lived – Twice!”’

‘So what do you think?’ they asked simultaneously.

Harry seemed to consider the question carefully. ‘Nah,’ he finally said. ‘Sounds too much like a
James Bond title for my liking.’

The twins looked nonplussed. ‘Who’s James Bond?’ they asked.

Hermione suppressed a smile as she headed up the stairs. The presence of so many people was
unsettling her. It was not as if she had been the focus of attention – that dubious pleasure had
been reserved for Harry – but she was still feeling exhausted. She wondered how Harry managed to
deal with this all the time.

She had just settled onto her bed when she was disturbed by a soft rap on her door.

‘Hermione?’

She smiled at the voice. ‘Come in, Harry, it’s not locked.’

He entered the room and silently closed the door behind him. Without saying a word he approached
her and soon she was enfolded in his arms. They lay together for what seemed like an eternity
before she spoke.

‘How did you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Get us out of there. I couldn’t do anything; I was completely under his control. So was Ron.’
She shuddered at the memory.

‘He didn’t know I was there, remember? He wasn’t trying to control me.’

‘But you have faced him before and remained in control. You even threw off one of his Imperious
curses!’

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Hermione. Can we just leave it for now and be glad that he can’t
affect me, even if we don’t know why?’

She nodded and buried herself deeper into his embrace. After a long moment, she finally spoke
again.

‘Do we tell Ginny?’

‘Not yet. She will find out soon enough, but if you don’t mind, I would rather wait until this
was over.’

She nodded her agreement. ‘Things just got harder, didn’t they?’

He nodded. ‘He will know, Hermione. He will know that we are going after his Horcruxes. He will
do everything he can to safeguard those remaining. He’s holding all the Aces now.’

‘No he isn’t. He still doesn’t know about you. You are the Trump card, Harry.’

He smiled at the analogy. ‘At least I’m not the Joker.’

She tried to match his levity. ‘No, that would be Ron. Definitely Ron.’ She looked at him and
tried to keep up a brave face, but she couldn’t hide from his penetrating eyes.

‘Oh, Harry,’ she sighed. ‘What are we going to do?’

Harry didn’t reply. Instead he held her tight as if his embrace alone could keep at bay the
horrors of the world.

*For the moment*, she realised, *that would have to be enough.*

***********

Severus Snape sat in silence as he watched his master stand looking out of the bay window, deep
in thought as he stroked the head of his pet, Nagini. He had been summoned to his master’s presence
in order to present his plans for the attack on Hogwarts and he had answered the call with
alacrity.

Bella had left with twenty Death Eaters not long before and Snape was sure that the Dark Lord
was preoccupied with that mission. He was certainly preoccupied with something anyway. Despite
this, he still had to give his full attention to Snape’s proposals.

Snape was certain that the Dark Lord would adopt the plan that he had just outlined. The reason
for this was simple – Snape knew that the plan he proposed would be almost exactly the same as the
one the Dark Lord had in mind. His master would always make his own decisions – he just liked to
test his lieutenants and Snape was only too happy to comply.

In consequence, his plan had been understated. Snape knew that the true impact from the mission
would be as a result of taking both targets at once. However, if they were to encounter
difficulties at the Ministry, then it was crucial for them to capture Hogwarts and – more
importantly – the children. A bloody battle for the castle would get people’s attention, but not as
much as holding several hundred children hostage. Also, Snape had realised that if the capture of
the school appeared easy – that the Dark Lord could take it on a whim – then the fragile confidence
of the magical community would be shattered whether the Ministry fell or not. Many people already
viewed Voldemort as invincible; if he could be seen to capture Hogwarts without any apparent effort
then the legend of his power would grow out of all proportion.

So Snape’s plan had been simplicity itself. Instead of attacking on September the first when
there would be a full Auror guard, Snape had proposed that they move a few days early, before the
children arrived. He had reasoned that if the school could be captured before the full guard
arrived, and subsequently held without the knowledge of the Ministry, then the hostages would
simply walk into their arms.

That would provide the impact, he had argued. The Ministry would be congratulating themselves on
successfully opening the school and would then be hit with the news that the Dark Lord had been
toying with them all along. That would be the moment to launch the attack on the Ministry. Just as
they were thinking that things could not get any worse, they would be struck by an attack at the
heart of government. It would add to the Dark Lord’s air of omnipotence, the message stark; no
matter what you do, the Dark Lord will be there first. Resistance to such a force is futile.

Simple, yet elegant.

Snape also knew of something else that made the adoption of his plan almost certain. If there
really was a Horcrux in the castle, the Dark Lord would want to ensure its safety before the
struggle commenced. Arriving a day or two early would allow him to do this. Also, he had stated
that he knew how to get round the castle wards. This wasn’t true, but he believed that Potter would
be able to arrange for the defences to be removed before the attack began. This was a risk, but a
calculated one.

He looked up as his master finally turned to face him.

‘Well done, Severus. Sometimes I think you can read my very thoughts. It shall be as you
propose.’

Snape tried not to show his relief. ‘Thank you, master.’

Voldemort regarded him for a moment. ‘You took a risk in speaking out against me today. I do not
usually tolerate such behaviour. Why did you dare to challenge my orders?’

Snape had been expecting this. ‘Forgive me, master, but I was concerned for you.’

Voldemort looked amused. ‘Concerned?’

‘Yes, master. I had suspected that you had received some unfavourable news and that this had led
you into making a potential error. I believe that the Ministry will have both the Weasleys and the
Grangers extremely well guarded. I fear that Bella may be walking into a trap.’

‘You believed I was making an error?’ the menace in this question was unmistakable.

‘Yes, master. I did. I did not want to voice this thought in front of the others, for I knew you
would soon recognise it for yourself. Forgive me, master, if I have overreached myself.’

Voldemort remained silent for a long moment. ‘You were correct in your assessment, Severus.
Quite correct, and it took a great deal of courage to speak as you did. I was overwrought – I had
received tidings that did not please me and it led me to lose my focus for a moment. I am glad you
had the wit to recognise this and the discretion not to draw attention to it. You have done me a
great service today, Severus. Your master is pleased.’

‘Thank you, master.’ He decided to risk a question of his own. ‘And Bella?’

‘It will do her some good. If an ambush is laid and some are taken then so be it. I do not
tolerate weakness and it is better, I think, that the weaklings are weeded out before the main
attack. If they cannot overcome these Ministry guards then they are of no use to me. Perhaps it
would not be a bad thing if Bella was to learn some humility. You may leave me now, Severus. I have
another matter of importance to deal with. I shall be leaving for a day or so and I am leaving you
in charge here. I will make this plain to the others. Ensure that Wormtail takes good care of
Nagini when I am gone.’

‘Of course, my lord. Thank you, my lord,’ replied Snape, bowing low as he backed out of the
room.

***********



10. Possession
--------------

**Chapter 10 – Possession**

**Sunday 17th August 1997**

Harry woke with a start as he felt a hand shake his shoulder with some force. He sat up abruptly
and tried to get his bearings as he realised that it was Ron who had disturbed him and who had an
expression of positive glee on his face.

‘Harry, get up! It’s Rufus. He says that Death Eater attacked my house and Hermione’s. He had
Aurors waiting and they have managed to capture twelve of them!’

Harry felt electrified by the tidings. ‘Anyone important?’ he asked after taking a moment for
the news to sink in.

‘Not really – only Dolohov that we know of. Still; it’s a start.’

‘It sure is,’ replied Harry. ‘Is Rufus here? What time is it?’

‘Yes, he’s here,’ answered Ron, ‘and its half past two in the morning. Are you going to get up?
Apparently there is a small celebration going on downstairs.’

Harry groggily got to his feet and quickly put on some clothes, grabbing his glasses from the
nightstand before following Ron downstairs. When he arrived in the living room, he was amused to
see Rufus, James Walsh and Arthur Weasley were doing their level best to put a dent into a bottle
of Firewhisky. His amusement was short lived however, as the realisation dawned on him that it was
*his* Firewhisky that they were drinking.

‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Where did you get that from?’

The three wizards turned to the source of the voice and smiled broadly as they spotted Harry and
Ron. Rufus summoned another two glasses from the kitchen and poured a couple of generous
measures.

‘We just found it in that cupboard over there,’ he said, after handing the glasses over to the
two of them. ‘I didn’t realise it was yours, Harry. Don’t worry,’ he added with a wink, ‘I will
replace anything we drink.’

‘It’s alright, Rufus, you don’t have to,’ said Harry. ‘Besides, I am hearing that we have cause
for celebration?’

‘We do indeed,’ replied Rufus. ‘Twelve of them we managed to get. We nearly caught the
Lestranges too, but they managed to escape. Never mind – we will get them next time.’

Harry took a sip of his drink and cursed; Bella seemed to lead a charmed life. No matter what
happened, she always seemed to get away. ‘So what have you done with them?’ he finally asked.

‘They are being held at the Ministry at the moment, but we will be holding tribunals for them
all tomorrow. Where, I imagine, they will receive the maximum penalty available.’

‘Executed?’ asked Harry.

Rufus nodded. ‘Executed, Harry. Some would say that it is only right that they should die.’

Harry took a moment before framing a response. He took another drink. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he finally
replied. ‘I wouldn’t say that they should die. In fact, I would hope that you wouldn’t think that
either.’

‘Why ever not, Harry?’ asked Rufus. ‘After what they have done, they deserve to die. I’m
surprised at you, Harry; they were going after the family of your friends, remember?’

‘Of course I remember,’ replied Harry, with a touch of anger. ‘But this isn’t about whether they
deserve to die or not; it’s about whether we have the right to kill them. Please don’t do this,
Rufus, I beg you. We will become what we are fighting if we kill them.’

Rufus regarded Harry for a long moment. ‘Harry, I think that this is the only language that they
will understand. Remember, there have been a few breakouts from Azkaban; this way we can be certain
that we don’t have any more problems with them.’

‘I understand that, Rufus, and I know that I am in no position to make the decision, but what I
can do is ask you to reconsider this. Dumbledore would not have wanted you to do this either. I
have come to respect you these past few weeks, Rufus, and I would think less of you if you insist
on executing these people. That may be of no consequence to you, but I want you consider this; if
we manage to win this war, do you think it will be easier for us to reconcile our world if we have
killed some of our enemies? Or do you think we might achieve peace by showing some
magnanimity?’

Rufus was silent for a long moment. He reached across for the bottle and re-filled his and
Harry’s glasses. Finally he regarded the young wizard.

‘I can make no promises, Harry, but I will think about it. For what it’s worth, I value your
opinion of me very highly indeed and there are not many people that I can say that about. We will
talk no more of this just now, but I will think on what you have said.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Harry, in a small voice.

‘Now,’ said Rufus, trying to lighten the mood, ‘where do you keep the rest of your whisky,
Harry?’

***********

Harry groggily made his way downstairs in order to fetch some breakfast for himself. He was
dog-tired and – if he was honest with himself – a little hungover. He needed some food and a strong
cup of tea would be most welcome too. The little celebration had gone on a little longer than was
prudent.

On entering the living room he was taken aback by just how busy it was. The kitchen table was a
mass of red hair and Molly had taken control in the kitchen. He glanced over to the seats by the
window and found to his dismay that his usual spot was now occupied by Hermione’s parents.

*Damn.*

Much as he loved the Weasleys, he really hoped that it wasn’t too long before they were found
alternative accommodation. For one thing, he was missing some quality time with Hermione. This was
proving impossible at the moment; the combination of Ginny and Hermione’s parents was proving to be
too much of an obstacle.

He poured himself a mug of tea and, realising that there was no free seating at the kitchen
table, he went over and joined Hermione’s parents by the window.

‘Good morning,’ smiled Mrs Granger. ‘I know you are Harry, but we haven’t been properly
introduced. I’m Helen, and this is my husband, Simon.’

‘Pleased to meet you both,’ said Harry as he shook hands with both of them. Helen looked at him
thoughtfully.

‘We had a long chat with Hermione last night, Harry. We finally managed to get her to come clean
about what exactly has been happening in your world these past six years. It was quite a tale, but
I must confess that I am glad she finally trusted us enough to let us know how much danger she is
in. It’s just a pity that it took the threat of attack for this to happen.’ She sounded quite irked
as she said this.

*Shit* thought Harry. *What the hell do I say now?* It occurred to him he wasn’t
making the best of impressions on the Grangers right now. He had been drinking last night and was
now nursing a bit of a hangover. *Way to go, Potter*.

‘I wouldn’t be too hard on Hermione, Mrs Granger. I’m sure she was only trying to prevent you
from worrying about her. It couldn’t have been an easy decision for her to make.’

‘It’s our job to worry,’ said Simon, not unkindly. ‘I just wish she had told us sooner. She
certainly has a very high opinion of you, Harry, although given what she told us you have did, I
can’t say I blame her.’

‘I couldn’t have done any of those things without her. If it wasn’t for her, I would have been
dead a long time ago. You should be proud of her – she is a wonderful person.’

‘Thank you for saying that, Harry – we are proud of her,’ replied Helen. ‘Now is it true what
she says? That you are the only one who can stop this madman?’

Harry glanced around before leaning in close, his voice barely audible. ‘Yes, it’s true; but I
would be grateful if you could keep that to yourselves for now.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t ask for any
of this – it just landed on me and there was no way I could avoid any of it. Voldemort had me
marked from the moment I was born. Hermione – and Ron – are the ones deserving of all the credit.
They could have chosen to stay out of this but they didn’t. That’s real courage – sticking with me
when they could have walked away. I couldn’t have asked for better friends.’

‘I understand, Harry’ replied Helen. ‘Just do one thing for us please?’

‘Anything.’

‘There is no point in either me or Simon trying to talk her out of this, much as we would like
to. Just make sure she comes out of this unscathed. Bring her back safe to us,’ she pleaded.

Harry nodded and looked them in the eye. ‘I will die myself before I let anything happen to her.
You have my word.’

‘Thank you, Harry,’ said Helen. ‘But take care of yourself too. I get the feeling that Hermione
would be quite distraught were anything to happen to you.’ She glanced up as she noticed Hermione
enter the room. ‘We’ll say no more about it,’ she whispered before Hermione reached them. ‘Thank
you, Harry.’

The three of them sat back in their chairs as Hermione joined them. She looked first at her
parents and then at Harry all of whom were trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

‘What’s going on?’ she finally asked.

**************

An hour later Harry nearly had a heart attack.

He had been enjoying a chat about Quidditch with Ron and the twins (much to Hermione’s
disapproval) when he nearly fell off his chair as a result of a loud crack followed by the
sensation of being smothered. When he finally regained his wits, he realised that the cause of this
disturbance was an old friend – Dobby.

The little elf – having released Harry – was now jiggling from one foot to the other, a look of
pure delight on his face.

‘Harry Potter is alive! Harry Potter is alive! Dobby knew that one so great would not be dead,
although he was very upset when he heard the news.’ Tears leaked from the eyes of the little elf as
he said this.

Harry smiled broadly. ‘Hi, Dobby. Good to see you.’ He regarded the assortment of woollen
clothes that Dobby was wearing. ‘You’re looking well.’

‘Harry Potter is too kind. Dobby is not worthy to be seen with the greatest wizard of all
time!’

Harry could feel himself flushing, only too aware of the amused looks he was receiving. Hermione
in particular was positively glowing as she regarded the little elf that Harry had set free.

‘Thank you, Dobby’ he said, ‘but I’m just Harry to my friends. Please remember that. Now, what
can I do for you, Dobby?’

Dobby looked as if he had just remembered something. He slapped himself on the forehead.

‘Headmistress McGonagall has asked Dobby to fetch Harry Potter, sir. She says that she thinks
she may have something that you might be interested in. She says to visit her as soon as
possible.’

Harry felt a surge of excitement at these words and chanced a glance at Ron and Hermione who
both looked at him with an excited glint.

‘Does anyone else know of this, Dobby?’

‘Only some of the other elves at the castle, Harry Potter, sir. But Harry Potter must not worry.
Mistress McGonagall instructed them to say nothing and theys is good elves who obey their masters.
Dobby has no master but is proud to keep Headmistress McGonagall’s secrets; especially when they
concern Harry Potter.’

‘Thank you, Dobby,’ he replied with a glance at his two friends. ‘Can you please tell the
Headmistress that we will visit her within the hour?’

‘Of course, Harry Potter. Dobby will be only too happy to do this.’ And with a crack, he was
gone.

Harry was aware of the others in the room all trying to look as if they were doing anything
*but* trying to eavesdrop as he moved over towards Ron and Hermione. He lowered his voice to a
whisper.

‘Sounds promising. Let’s get our things and go.’

***********

Lord Voldemort surveyed the space in the Gaunt shack where his ring used to lie and cursed. This
confirmed his suspicions.

*Dumbledore*. That meddling old fool had somehow stumbled on his secret. No doubt Potter
had known about it too before his death. What else could account for the blood traitor and the
mudblood having found and destroyed the Horcrux in the grave? He would deal with them soon, before
any more damage was done. *They would be returning to Hogwarts, wouldn’t they?* He would have
to ensure a particular welcome for them both.

He congratulated himself on making more than one Horcrux – they would never find and destroy all
six, notwithstanding the fact that they would still have to defeat him in person. Even if they were
to get five, he knew that the sixth was safe. It was rarely out of his sight, and never out of his
reach. So far, he now knew that three had been destroyed; his diary, his ring and the grave. It was
as well that he had decided to spread himself when he had made his first Horcrux. One should always
have a back up.

When all this was over, he might consider making replacements for any that had been destroyed.
*The murders of the blood traitor and mudblood would be appropriate for the task*, he mused.
And any of the Weasleys could make up any shortfall.

With one last glance around the shack, he disappeared with a crack.

***********

Harry rapped sharply on the door of Professor McGonagall’s office and waited.

‘Enter.’

He, Hermione and Ron stepped inside.

‘Ah. Good morning. I am glad to see you could get here so soon. Please, sit down and I will
fetch us some tea,’ said the Headmistress, with a smile.

The three friends sat and shared a quick glance, each struggling to contain their excitement as
Minerva fussed over the cups and saucers.

‘After you left last Friday, I must confess that I was somewhat at a loss,’ she began. ‘For the
life of me, I could not think of anything in the school that could possibly be what you are looking
for; and remember, I have been at Hogwarts for over forty years, so I have more than a little
knowledge of the castle. At first I took to searching the castle myself, but after nearly wasting a
week I realised I was approaching this problem from the wrong angle. I could search for ever and
not find anything; such is the size of this school.’

‘So what did you do instead?’ asked Ron.

McGonagall looked a little annoyed at the interruption, but carried on.

‘I remembered that you said that these Horcruxes were usually placed in an object or location
that was significant to Riddle. Not Lord Voldemort, but *Riddle*. So I decided to pull out his
file from the records. It made for most interesting reading. Did you know, for example, that he
received an award for special services to the school?’

‘I knew that!’ exclaimed Ron. ‘I had to clean the damn thing in our second year. Do you
remember, Harry?’ He asked, looking at his friend.

But Harry had gone white as he watched McGonagall reach under her desk to retrieve Riddle’s
award, which she placed on the flat surface between them.

‘Sweet Merlin,’ he whispered, awe in his voice. ‘The award! Riddle’s award!’ He turned to Ron
and Hermione and noticed the realisation dawn on their faces.

He turned back to face the trophy. ‘*Specialis Revelio,’* he muttered, pointing his wand at
the award. A strange purplish/green smoke emanated from the trophy, confirming what Harry already
knew.

‘Were you correct, Minerva?’ asked a voice from above. Harry glanced around and noticed the
portrait of Dumbledore looking down of them, curiosity evident on its face.

‘Yes. She was correct. Riddle’s award for services to the school. It has been here all along,
right under our noses,’ said Harry, more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.

The portrait of Albus slapped his forehead with his hand. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t I
think of that? It’s probably the only thing at this school that he would be proud of. *Well
done,* Minerva.’

‘He’s only proud of it because he got away with murder,’ replied Harry. ‘And framed Hagrid into
the bargain.’

‘Exactly,’ replied Albus. ‘Just the sort of twisted pride he would revel in. He literally got
away with murder, and that award is a lasting reminder of the crime. Hidden in plain sight. I may
have to rethink some of the assumptions I have been making about these Horcruxes,’ he mused aloud.
‘So that’s four we have found then? The diary, the ring, the locket and now the award?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Five. We have destroyed four of them and the award will be next. Snape
was correct. There was one at the Riddle grave. We destroyed it yesterday.’

The portrait of Dumbledore looked down on the three teenagers with benevolent pride. He clapped
his hands together. ‘Oh, well done. Very well done. This is wonderful news.’ He actually danced a
jig.

‘I hate to rain on the parade,’ said Harry, ‘but Voldemort knows what we are doing.’ He went on
to explain the events of the previous day; in particular the arrival of Voldemort after Ron had
activated the key. Dumbledore’s expression hardened somewhat.

‘Do not worry, Harry. It was inevitable that he would find out sooner or later. The good news is
that we have managed to find five before he discovered this. Also, he did not find out that you are
still alive. That element of surprise could prove crucial before the end. Remember; there is only
one to get now, and that one was always going to be difficult. You have done better than I could
possibly have hoped in such a short time, Harry. So what will you do next?’

Harry picked up the award from McGonagall’s desk and examined it. ‘Destroy this bloody trophy,’
he replied.

***********

The three friends stood around the bed in Hermione’s room, Riddle’s award placed upon it, no
outward sign visible of the evil that lay within. Harry had placed it there upon their return from
Hogwarts and now they had to decide what to do next.

‘So do we just carve it up with the sword?’ asked Ron, looking at Harry.

Harry took a moment before replying. ‘I don’t know, Ron. This one is a bit different from the
locket and the gravestone.’ He looked up at his friend. ‘We had to open the locket in order to
destroy it with the sword and opening it released the soul fragment. The gravestone required the
key. There is nothing to open here; the soul fragment is *of* this object; strictly speaking,
it’s not *in* it. It’s more akin to the diary I think.’

‘How did you destroy the diary?’ asked Hermione.

‘I just rammed the basilisk fang straight through it. But in that instance, Riddle’s soul
fragment was already loose – it was controlling Ginny, remember?’ He ignored the shudder from Ron
and Hermione. ‘My main concern is that it would appear that we can’t attack the soul fragment
directly – we can only destroy it by destroying the object, and it would seem that we can’t destroy
the object because it is protected by the soul fragment. We have to separate them from each other.’
He sighed in frustration. ‘It’s a Catch 22 situation.’

‘But you destroyed the locket,’ said Ron, sounding confused. ‘What’s a Catch 22 situation
anyway?’ he added as an afterthought.

Harry and Hermione shared a look.

‘I’ll let Hermione explain that one to you later. Anyway, we couldn’t destroy the locket until
we had opened it. You battered it with the sword and didn’t even scratch it. It was only vulnerable
once we got it open, but we can’t ‘open’ this thing.’

‘I see what you are getting at, Harry,’ began Hermione, slowly. ‘The soul fragment was
protecting the locket, and the only way to break the protection was to open it, release the soul
fragment and thereby sever the link between them?’

‘Exactly,’ replied Harry. ‘It could only be opened by someone who could speak Parceltongue.
That’s a powerful protection; how many known Parcelmouths are there?’

‘Not many,’ replied Hermione, ‘and if you count only those not descended from Salazar Slytherin,
not any. Apart from you, that is.’

Harry nodded. ‘So it would have been virtually impossible for anyone else to destroy that
Horcrux, even with the sword.’

‘So what do we do then?’ asked Ron.

Harry looked grim. ‘We lure it out, Ron. We lure it out and destroy the trophy.’

***********

**Monday 18th August 1997**

Harry sat on the sofa by the window and stared into space. He was enjoying a few moments peace
whilst Hermione pored over some research books in the house library. She had went back to Hogwarts
after their discussion yesterday and had returned with a stack of books that she thought would help
her discover some method of luring the soul fragment out of the trophy and had then disappeared
into the library, only coming out to eat and sleep.

Their other ‘guests’ in the house were nowhere to be seen. Rufus had sent Sukey to tell them
that new safe houses were being prepared and would be ready in a day or two. He suspected that in
the interim, someone had asked everyone to give Harry, Ron and Hermione plenty of space and
privacy. *Probably Remus*, he thought. It was a big enough house anyway, and had parts that he
had not even explored properly yet.

He glanced over to Ron who was lying on the floor in front of the fire and could not suppress a
smile. His friend was currently engrossed in reading ‘Catch 22’; a copy of which Hermione had
procured for him yesterday. She had given up trying to explain and had instead managed to locate a
copy amongst the many volumes that could be found in the library of The Briars. Ron had looked
appalled at the prospect of reading for pleasure, but once he began, he quickly became hooked. The
only problem was his incessant questions about certain Muggle objects and habits that he had no
clue about.

His reverie was interrupted as Hermione entered the room with a mixture of excitement and fear
visible on her face. She carried a large volume in her hand.

‘Harry, Ron? Do you have a minute? I think I have found something.’

Ron immediately put down his book and crossed the room to sit on his usual chair. Hermione
joined Harry on the couch and placed the book on the table in front of her. Harry glanced at the
title – *Magick Moste Evile* – and suppressed a shudder.

‘There is virtually nothing in print about Horcruxes,’ she began, ‘only a few vague references
to them. Even this book only mentions them as something that should not be spoken of, and this book
is as about as bad as magic books get. I wasted a good few hours looking for more information on
them before I realised that I was approaching this from the wrong angle.’

‘In what way?’ asked Ron.

‘I was looking for information on *Horcruxes* when it occurred to me that I should be
looking for information on *possession*. It was something Harry said yesterday that put the
thought into my head. ‘*It was controlling Ginny.*’ That’s what had lured the Riddle in the
diary out – the prospect of possessing someone and taking their form. It occurred to me that
although the soul fragments all come from Riddle; they are separate entities and can think and act
for themselves. If they couldn’t then the diary Riddle would not have been able to do what it
did.’

‘So? What does that prove?’ asked Ron.

Hermione gave him what could only be described as a ‘dangerous’ look before replying. ‘It proves
that the fragment of Riddle’s soul in the trophy will try to possess a human body if given the
chance. That’s how we lure it out.’

‘How do we do that?’ asked Harry. ‘How do we make it think that it has a chance of possessing
someone?’

Hermione opened the book to a page previously marked. ‘By actually giving it the chance. Read
this.’

Harry and Ron leaned forward to read the highlighted text.

*Whilst it has been frowned upon since the earliest days, the possession of a human form by a
spirit or ghost has not been uncommon. Often, grieving relatives would allow the ghost form of the
deceased to temporarily possess their body in order to allow the deceased to once again enjoy the
tangible pleasures of living that had been denied to them by their passing. The ability to touch;
to eat – even to love were enabled by this process, although it was not without danger. By
submitting to possession, the living host was forever running the risk that the deceased would
refuse to relinquish control. Despite the danger, there have been examples of those willing to host
a spirit.*

*The actual spellwork involved in such a dangerous undertaking is surprisingly simple, but the
spellwork is not sufficient on its own. The incantation – Usus Meus Somes – is only the first part
of what is an extremely powerful process. In order for the spell to succeed, the potential host
must be completely willing to allow possession. If this willingness is not present, the ghost or
spirit will not be able to take possession.*

Harry stopped reading and looked at Hermione in disbelief. ‘Are you actually suggesting that I
try and lure Riddle out of that trophy by offering myself as a host to be possessed?’ The
incredulity in his voice was apparent.

‘No,’ replied Hermione. Harry looked nonplussed. ‘I’m suggesting that I try to lure him out,’
she corrected.

An appalled silence greeted these words.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Harry.

‘I knew you would say that so…’ began Hermione.

‘NO!’ shouted Harry.

‘IT’S NOT ALWAYS UP TO YOU TO DECIDE THESE THINGS, HARRY,’ yelled Hermione in response. She
calmed herself. ‘It’s not always up to you,’ she repeated. ‘You will be needed to actually destroy
the trophy once the soul fragment is lured out. We know that the sword answers to you, Harry. It
may not work the same for me or Ron. So it can’t be you that acts as bait.’

The two of them held eye contact, each defying the other to break off first. The tension between
them was palpable, and Harry was determined not to allow this madness. He opened his mouth to
speak, but was interrupted by Ron.

‘You two seem to be forgetting something,’ Ron said. He ignored the sudden hostile looks from
his two friends and ploughed on. ‘Hermione’s right, Harry; you have to be the one to wield the
sword so you can’t be the bait.’ He turned to Hermione, noticing the triumphant look on her face.
‘It can’t be you either, Hermione.’

She looked shocked. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you are a Muggle born. A ‘mudblood’ to Riddle. Do you think it was a coincidence that
he wanted to possess Ginny when she had the diary? He could have taken a go at Harry once he had it
but he didn’t. He preferred the pure-blood Ginny to the half-blood Harry. Do you really think he
would settle for a Muggle born? It will have to be me. I’m the only pure-blood amongst us.’

Harry and Hermione had no response to this, each staring open mouthed at their friend.

‘It’s no use sitting there like a pair of stranded fish; you both know I am right.’ He stood up.
‘And if you cock this up I will spend eternity haunting the pair of you myself, so you had better
kiss and make up and tell me what I need to do,’ he added as he walked off towards his room.

********

Harry and Hermione sat looking at one another in silence for a few minutes. Harry knew he had
cocked up – again – and he was desperately trying to think of some way to make amends. It occurred
to him that this was the ‘meeting Snape’ argument all over again. Strangely, this realisation
seemed to help him see the way clear.

‘I’m sorry,’ he finally said, quietly. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I understand why you are angry. You were right; it isn’t up to me
what happens here. I just don’t want to place you in any more danger than necessary, but I realise
that you think the same about me. If we are going to succeed in this, I guess there will be a few
things that we have to do that I don’t like.’ He looked directly at her. ‘I’m not going to lie to
you though; I’m glad that it’s Ron that will have to do this instead of you. He is right, you
know.’

Hermione took a moment before replying. ‘I know he is right. I hadn’t thought about that.’ She
sounded disappointed. ‘It might be hard for you to understand, Harry, but I want to do something to
help. It always seems to be you taking the risks and I worry that you push your luck too often. I
want to share the risks with you so that your odds of survival improve. Can you understand that?
Can you understand that I want to make a contribution?’

‘I do understand, Hermione. But don’t underestimate yourself. We wouldn’t have gotten this far
without you. Who discovered Regulus? Who worked out that we had to use the sword? Who discovered a
way of luring the Horcrux from the trophy? You did, Hermione. All your work, so don’t ever think
that you don’t make a contribution. I would have been dead a long time ago if it weren’t for
you.’

‘But that’s nothing but looking up information in books. That’s hardly a contribution.’

‘Don’t you get it?’ asked Harry. ‘Don’t you understand that neither I nor Ron can do what you
do? Besides, I wouldn’t worry about getting your share of danger; when this comes to the end, you
will be right in the thick of it. We will need all your abilities then.’ He reached over and took
her hand. ‘Take this situation for example. We need you to show Ron what he has to do. I can’t do
it and – Merlin knows – Ron won’t have a clue either. We depend on you for this kind of thing.
Please understand how important this is to us.’

She looked into his eyes for a moment before finally nodding acceptance at his words. She leaned
in and allowed herself to be held in his arms, and almost immediately, she felt better. It was as
if he could keep the world at bay with his embrace. She nuzzled into his chest.

‘Thanks, Harry.’

‘What for?’

‘For being you,’ she replied. She waited a moment in his arms, enjoying the sensation for just a
bit longer.

‘C’mon,’ she added, giving him a quick kiss. ‘We had better go and show Ron what he needs to
do.’

*********

‘So are you sure you know what you have to do?’ asked Hermione, a concerned look on her face as
she gazed at Ron. They were now situated in the Gryffindor common room, deciding that it was not
possible to try this in a house full of people. It should have been a pleasant experience for them
to be back in their usual armchairs in front of the common room fire, but the presence of Riddle’s
Horcrux on the table in the far corner of the room took any delight out of the situation.

‘For the tenth time, Hermione; yes, I’m sure I know what I have to do,’ replied Ron.

Hermione looked over to Harry. ‘Ready?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be. What about you? This isn’t an easy spell.’

‘I know, Harry, but I think I will be OK,’ replied Hermione.

Harry frowned, his expression clearly demonstrating his anxiety. The problem was that the three
of them would have to act in unison for this to work. Hermione had repeatedly gone over the spell
with Ron and whilst he had seemed to master the actual practicalities of it, he had hit upon a
problem.

*‘The book says that the host has to be completely willing to be possessed. I don’t know if I
will be able to pull this off.’*

*Harry and Hermione had looked askance at him, so Ron had elaborated.*

*‘Look; I want to destroy this soul fragment as much as anyone, but no matter how hard I try,
there will always be a part of me that does not want possessed. All of me, if I’m honest. The
problem is, whilst I want to succeed in luring Riddle out, I don’t want to succeed in being
possessed. The magic won’t work if that’s the case, will it? I mean, the soul fragment will sense
my reluctance, and won’t come out.’*

Unfortunately, Hermione had completely agreed with Ron. That it was probably the first time in
years that they had actually agreed on something was of no consolation to Harry. Then Hermione had
offered the solution.

*‘The Imperius curse,’ she had said.*

*‘What about it?’ asked Ron.*

*‘I’ll have to perform the Imperius curse on you. That way I can make you willing to be
possessed. I don’t think Riddle will be able to tell the difference.’*

And so they had decided to try it. Hermione would control Ron; Ron would summon the spirit and
Harry would destroy the trophy once it had emerged. Simple really.

*Yeah, right,* thought Harry. Simple in the way that everything was simple, in theory.
*Right before it hit the brick wall of reality*.

He forgot his reservations and concentrated fully as Hermione indicated that she was about to
begin. She nodded to her friends, pointed her wand at Ron and said ‘Imperius!’

A placid expression was immediately visible on Ron’s face. He smiled dreamily, rose from his
seat and walked over to the corner of the room where the trophy was lying propped on the table
against the wall. Hermione slid behind a sofa and crouched down out of sight. They had decided that
it would be simpler if the soul fragment was not distracted by the presence of other people. Harry
stood at the other side of the entrance to the dormitory stairs, the sword gripped tightly in his
right hand, his wand in the other.

Ron raised his wand and pointed it at the trophy.

‘*Usus Meus Somes!*’ he cried, no hint of doubt in his tone.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then – as if in a surreal dream – an eye appeared in the
centre of the trophy. A black malevolent eye that rotated slowly, taking in the surroundings.

’Who dares to summon me?’ it hissed. It looked directly at Ron. ‘I sense no fear in this one.
Strange, he should fear me.’

Ron said nothing, his expression still dream like.

‘I do, however, sense fear in this room,’ continued the voice, mockingly. ‘Perhaps it is from
whomever is behind that sofa over there; or maybe even from the wretch who is standing at the foot
of the stairs?’

Harry was stunned, and glancing across at Hermione, he saw the look of pure, naked fear on her
features. He decided to take action, and stepped out from his hiding place. The eye laughed.

‘Congratulations,’ said Harry. ‘It would seem that we do not give you enough credit. Allow me to
express my admiration for your abilities,’ he added. ‘It’s OK, Hermione – you can come out now. He
knows we are here.’

Hermione gingerly stepped out from behind the sofa, lowering her wand as she did so and removing
the curse from Ron, who immediately recoiled from the eye, an expression of horror on his face.

‘Now I can sense his fear,’ sneered the voice. ‘You thought to snare me with such a simple ploy?
Fools! Do you not realise that I know all?’

Harry licked his lips, considering his options. He suspected that if he moved to destroy the
trophy then the eye would simply disappear and all chance would be lost. He looked directly at the
eye, trying to suppress his fear.

‘Potter,’ the voice hissed. ‘And yet not Potter. The Potter I knew did not have green eyes. You
would be the spawn of that Muggle loving fool?’ it asked.

‘I am the son of James Potter,’ confirmed Harry, ‘and I am here to destroy you, Riddle. Know
that four of your brothers are destroyed. You are not as powerful as you think.’

This seemed to check the eye for a moment. It was silent, obviously considering its next
move.

‘But you will not destroy me,’ it finally hissed. ‘I shall not be drawn out. You must know that
you can only destroy me by destroying my trophy; and that you cannot destroy the trophy so long as
I reside within. Your quest ends here, son of Potter.’

*That’s what the other one called me,* thought Harry, annoyed at the irrelevancy. He had no
idea what to do and found himself becoming increasingly angry at the fear and impotence he felt. At
that moment he felt a surge of hatred for everything that Tom Riddle stood for; for everything he
had done and planned to do; for the destroyed lives and the needless deaths. He decided to try one
last desperate attempt.

‘You will be destroyed,’ he said, his voice like doom. ‘You will be drawn out.’ He raised his
wand and pointed it at the eye.

‘*Accio, Riddle*!” he cried.

The voice laughed scornfully. ‘You think you can summon me? Summon one who has explored magic
beyond the realms of your imagination. You have no idea…’

The voice tailed off. It tailed off because it was experiencing a sudden pull; a force that was
compelling it to leave the sanctuary of the trophy.

‘How are you doing this?’ it hissed.

Harry ignored it, instead concentrating his entire will on summoning the spirit. The sweat
started to streak down his brow, and his arm was beginning to tremble with the stress.

‘Harry, what are you doing?’ screeched Hermione. She watched appalled as a black mist slowly
began to emerge from the trophy; a black mist that was gradually forming into the recognizable form
of Tom Riddle as it was inexorably drawn towards Harry.

‘Fool!’ hissed the voice, straining with every word as it strove to break free from Harry’s
summons. ‘I will possess you if you persist with this folly. I would rather not lower myself to
take your form, but I will if you insist upon this madness. And then I will destroy your
companions. It will be your fault, Potter; you have decreed their fate with this insanity.’

Hermione?’ gasped Harry, the strain evident. ‘Take the sword. As soon as he is clear of the
trophy, you must destroy it.’

‘But, Harry, we don’t even know if it will work for me,’ she pleaded. ‘Stop this! Let it go,
it’s not worth it!’

‘Damn it, Hermione! Are you a Gryffindor or not?’ he demanded, his voice cracking. ‘Take the
bloody sword!’

His anger seemed to propel her into action. With a determined look on her face, she approached
him and took the sword from his hand. As soon as she did, he moved his free hand to his wand so
that he could now fight the strain with both. ‘Stab it as soon as it is clear,’ he said through
gritted teeth.

She watched with a horrible fascination as the form of Riddle was gradually drawn free of the
trophy. She knew that it did not want to leave its shelter and was fighting Harry tooth and nail;
but she also knew that if it sensed defeat then it would quickly move to control Harry. She drew
nearer to it, sword raised in her hands.

By this point Ron realised that he must do something to help. He stood next to Harry and drew
his own wand. ‘*Accio, Riddle!*’ he cried, adding his own essence to the struggle. The added
power seemed to make a difference as the spirit form of Riddle – now confused as to whom to
possess, was pulled just that little bit further from its shelter. Sensing defeat, it finally
decided to act. With a speed that terrified the three friends, it suddenly struck out straight for
Harry.

Harry watched in horror as the black form shot towards him. Time seemed to have slowed down as
the spirit Riddle shouted in triumph as it careered straight for him. Its cry was transformed into
an agonising howl however, as Hermione – moving faster than she ever thought possible – drove the
point of the sword directly into the heart of the trophy where the eye had first appeared. The
trophy split into fragments, its power broken and as she turned, the feeling of dread in her heart
was transformed into one of joy as the spirit of Tom Riddle reared up and screamed in agony, before
finally disappearing into thin air. She felt at that moment that she could do anything; take on
anyone, such was her elation.

It was abruptly cut short however, for it was precisely at that moment that Harry collapsed.

***********

Lord Voldemort looked down upon the receptacle that had once contained the locket of the mighty
Slytherin and struggled to contain his anger. He knew for certain now that Dumbledore had
discovered his secret for that was now four of his Horcruxes that had been destroyed.

*The one at Hogwarts will probably be gone too*, he surmised. He would not be able to
ascertain if this was indeed true until they took the castle, but he knew to always assume the
worst; especially when dealing with Dumbledore.

*That interfering old fool*, he raged. But he was dead now. He hoped that it had been in
the search for his Horcruxes that his enemy had been weakened enough to be destroyed by Severus.
Indeed, he now thought this likely and this knowledge assuaged his rage somewhat.

Dumbledore was dead. Potter was dead. *Were their deaths worth the loss of five of his
Horcruxes?* *Yes, they were*, he decided. He could always make more, but the enemy could
never hurt him again.

With that thought, the Dark Lord Apparated back to his manor.



11. Discourse and Discoveries
-----------------------------

**Chapter 11 – Discourse and Discoveries**

**Tuesday 19th August 1997**

Harry woke up and immediately tried to get his bearings. He realised that he was lying in his
own bed and that it was now night as no light penetrated through the window. He remembered what had
occurred earlier and heaved a sigh of relief that they had remained unscathed after destroying the
Horcrux. It took him a few more moments to fully come to his senses however, for when he did he
noticed something else that he found quite disconcerting at first.

Hermione was lying in his bed next to him, her arm stretched across him, her head snug against
his chest. In his bed. With him. She was still wearing the clothes she had on earlier and a quick
check revealed that he too was still in the same garb.

He cautiously looked down upon her sleeping form, trying his best not to waken her, but
discovered that his girlfriend was a light sleeper. She opened her eyes.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Quite comfortable?’ he added, trying to sound nonchalant, as if waking up next
to a beautiful woman was an everyday occurrence.

‘Hi, yourself,’ she replied with a coy smile. ‘Feeling OK?’

He took a moment to consider his answer. ‘Never better,’ he finally replied.

‘You passed out,’ she said. ‘We weren’t sure how badly injured you were, so we took you straight
back here and up to your bed. I didn’t want to leave you alone as I wanted to be sure that you were
OK, so I decided to stay. I hope you don’t mind?’

He smiled. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Have you any idea how good it feels to wake up with you in
my arms? I should pass out more often if this is the reward.’

‘That’s not funny Harry,’ she replied, but she was smiling as she said it. Smiling and blushing
at his complement.

A thought occurred to Harry. ‘I hope your parents don’t mind. Are they still here?’

‘They are still here. But don’t worry. I spoke to them and explained. My father won’t beat you
up, I promise,’ she said with a smile.

He smiled back, but then became serious for a moment. ‘You were great today,’ he told her. ‘You
were fantastic. Don’t ever think that you don’t make a contribution. Not after what you did
today.’

She shook her head. ‘I was terrified. I froze. If you hadn’t shouted at me I wouldn’t have
moved. Some Gryffindor I am,’ she added shamefully.

‘Of course you were afraid,’ he replied softly. ‘I was afraid – only a fool wouldn’t have felt
fear in that situation. Don’t you see, Hermione? That’s what makes you a true Gryffindor. That’s
why the sword worked for you. If you don’t feel the fear then the act isn’t courageous. It’s the
fact that you overcame the fear that makes what you did so brave.’ He smiled at her. ‘For someone
so intelligent, you can be quite thick sometimes.’

She swatted him on the chest with her arm. ‘Idiot!’ she exclaimed. Then, in a quieter voice, ‘So
are you always afraid when you do these things? You can’t tell – you always look so calm.’ She had
lifted herself onto her elbows so that she was now looking directly into his eyes, her body lying
on top of his.

He nodded. ‘Of course I am always afraid. Terrified would be a better description. But I learned
long ago to use my fear against the enemy.’

‘Is that what you did today? Is that how you were able to summon Riddle from the trophy? I was
wondering about that – the power it must have taken for you to do that is enormous. Don’t ever
doubt you are a great wizard, Harry.’

‘That’s one of the reasons I was able to do it. Dumbledore once taught me that fear and hate can
be almost as powerful an emotion as love. It’s one of the reasons Voldemort is as strong as he is.
But you can use the fear - channel it.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s hard to explain, Hermione, but
when I am in those situations I think about what the enemy has done and what he intends to do. I
fear for what he would do to those I love if he wins. That makes me angry and I seem to be able to
tap in to that anger. It makes me determined not to give in. I felt it today, and I felt it when I
faced Voldemort in the graveyard the night he returned. It’s not something I’m especially proud of.
Dumbledore believed that it is my ability to love that will eventually prove decisive, but
sometimes I think it is fear and hate that drives me.’

‘Don’t believe that, Harry; it is love that drives you. You just said it yourself; it is the
fear of the consequences losing that drives you, not the fear of death itself. That makes all the
difference.’ She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his; drawing him into a long, deep
kiss. ‘You really are a wonderful person Harry, and the most wonderful thing about you is that you
don’t even realise it,’ she said, when they finally broke apart.

Harry didn’t reply; instead he was content to lie here with the woman he loved in his arms and
forget the rest of the world for a few precious moments. He closed his eyes, enjoying a sensation
of complete peace and contentment that he had never felt in his whole life.

‘I love you,’ he murmured, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

***********

Ron sat in his usual seat by the window in the Briar’s and worried about Harry. The room was
once again full as his family and Hermione’s parents had point blank refused to leave until they
could be sure that Harry was OK. Despite the fact that it was three in the morning, Moony, Rufus
and James Walsh were also present and he could tell that they were all concerned, despite
assurances from Sukey and both Dr Granger’s that Harry would be fine.

They had used the fireplace in the common room to Floo Harry back to the Briars. Their sudden
arrival with an unconscious Harry and the Sword of Gryffindor had proved shocking to the others who
by this time had returned to the kitchen for dinner. Harry had been as white as a sheet – ‘like
death warmed up’ had been Simon Granger’s concerned observation – before he had taken charge of the
situation. He explained later that both he and his wife had received a general medical education.
It was apparently required for any aspiring dentist, though Ron had no idea why. He guessed it
explained why they were both called ‘Doctor’ anyway.

Hermione had summoned Sukey and ordered her to fetch Rufus immediately before helping the others
carry Harry up to his bed. He hadn’t thought it wise to wind her up about elf rights at that
particular moment. He had hardly spoken to her since as she had refused to leave Harry’s side.

He glanced across to his sister. She had been hysterical and had screamed at them for letting
Harry get hurt. Her wrath was mainly directed at Hermione, however, and Ron wondered if Ginny
suspected the truth. He’d actually had to stun her to get her to be quiet and he knew that
retribution was in the offing for *that* particular piece of spellwork.

He looked to the door as Hermione suddenly appeared, looking radiant. He knew then that Harry
was fine.

‘How is he?’ asked Molly in a hushed voice.

‘He’s fine, Mrs Weasley,’ replied Hermione, with a smile. ‘He was awake a few minutes ago but he
is sleeping again now. He was just drained. He had to do… something that required a lot of power. I
think it drained him so much that his body just shut down. Now that he has had some rest, he will
be fine. I’m going back up to him - I just thought that you would all want to know.’

Relieved sighs could be heard from everyone, even Ginny who had been glaring daggers at Hermione
from the moment she appeared. *I’m going to have to have words with that one*, he thought.

He stood as Hermione approached him and gave him a huge hug. ‘Thanks, Ron,’ she said. ‘You were
wonderful today.’

‘You weren’t too bad yourself, Hermione,’ he replied. ‘Now go. He’ll be needing you,’ he added
with a smile.

He watched as she headed back upstairs, and only blushed when he felt all eyes in the room on
him. The look from Hermione’s father was particularly disconcerting.

*Oh shit. I hope I haven’t just landed Harry in it.*

***********

When morning finally arrived, Harry and Hermione were awakened by a soft knocking on the bedroom
door. Hermione rose out of bed and crossed the room to open it.

‘Are you both awake?’ asked Ron as he shuffled inside. Seeing that they were he continued. ‘You
two lovebirds had better get up,’ he whispered quietly. ‘Rufus wants a word with you, Harry, if you
are feeling up to it. Good to see you safe and well,’ he added with a leer before leaving the
room.

.

Harry turned to Hermione. ‘I didn’t realise Ron knew you were in here. Is he cool about it? Or
am I going to get that look from him all the time now?’

Hermione snuggled back into Harry’s arms before replying. ‘He’s fine with it. He understands why
I am here. Just expect a lot of raised eyebrows and nudges from him and his brothers this morning.
Of course, he’d like to think we’ve being going at it like bunny rabbits all night, so don’t humour
him.’

Harry felt his face redden. *Did she just say what he thought she said?* He didn’t know
where to look.

‘Oh, Harry,’ said Hermione, noticing his discomfort. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She had a
mischievous look on her face now and continued. ‘Just don’t give him the satisfaction of thinking
that he is bothering you. After all, one day he will be right.’

‘Right? About what?’

‘About us going at it all night like bunny rabbits of course,’ she replied with a pert look,
before leaning in to kiss him and then slipping out of the bed.

*Bloody hell*, thought Harry, a grin stretching across his face. *Bloody, bloody
hell*.

*********

Twenty minutes later Harry found himself sitting at the breakfast table being fussed over by
Molly as she heaped yet more food onto his plate. Harry was sure that she believed a good hearty
meal could cure anything. *Maybe we should try that approach with Voldemort,* he mused. He
could see the headline now – *Dark Lord Dead from Cholesterol Poisoning!*

He had been greeted like a conquering hero, with hearty handshakes and pats on the back. Even
Simon Granger had seemed pleased to see him, but Harry was still giving him a bit of a wide
berth.

Rufus joined him for breakfast, accompanied by James Walsh. He immediately asked if he could
speak to Harry, Ron and Hermione in private. The others took the hint and quickly found somewhere
else to be.

‘I received a letter from Snape last night – he wants to meet you again,’ began Rufus, without
preamble. ‘He says that Voldemort has finalised the plan for the attack on Hogwarts. Snape believes
that it is vital that we know the details of the plan so that we can be in a position to counter.
I’m inclined to agree with him,’ he added, wryly.

*Snape*, thought Harry. In all the excitement of the past few days, he had forgotten about
Snape, incredible as that now seemed.

‘When and where?’ he asked, pointedly not looking at Hermione as he did so. He didn’t want to go
through another argument.

‘Tomorrow night,’ replied the Minister. ‘He has suggested a pub this time. A Muggle pub. I
didn’t realise he was acquainted with such establishments, although one must give him credit for
picking out such secure locations. Neither of you will ever be recognised in such a place.’ He
sounded amused.

Harry smiled his own amusement. ‘I didn’t think he was the type either. Not that I mind – I can
have a couple of drinks whilst he talks. And he’s buying.’

‘Good,’ replied Rufus. He handed Harry a plastic ID card. ‘As you are only seventeen you will
need this – it’s a driving licence.’

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

‘You need to be eighteen to drink in Muggle pubs Harry. This will convince any curious barman
that you are old enough. It will also act as your Portkey – the password is the same as before,’ he
added.

Harry nodded, pocketing the ID card. ‘Is there anything you want me to ask him?’ he said,
surprising himself at just how easily he now accepted the fact that Snape was on his side.

‘I have a list,’ replied Rufus, with a smile.

***********

**Wednesday 20th August 1997**

Harry took a deep breath before opening the door of the pub in order to compose himself. He had
activated the Portkey as instructed and had been transported to the centre of Inverness in the
highlands of Scotland. He had taken a few moments to appreciate the town, situated as it was at the
northern tip of the Great Glen with the River Ness rolling slowly through the centre; the famous
loch visible in the distance. It was a pretty spot and, as he was early, he had taken a few moments
to enjoy the scenery.

He reached to open the door but was startled as it swung towards him and a crowd of boisterous
young men poured out of the door laughing and shouting. ‘Poured’ was the right word in this
instance as Harry quickly realised that the group were quite drunk (although three sheets to the
wind was probably a more accurate description). He allowed the group to pass before stepping over
the pub’s threshold.

He had never been in a Muggle pub before and did not quite know what to expect, but he found
himself being pleasantly surprised. This particular establishment was called ‘The Old Smiddy’ and
it was plain from the various old iron tools and fittings that adorned the walls that this building
must indeed have been a blacksmith’s shop in a previous era. There was a long bar running the
length of the far wall offering a variety of cask ales and beers, and the spirit gantry on the wall
contained a quite astonishing number of bottles, the majority of which appeared to contain malt
whisky. A fire roared in the far corner with two large, high backed armchairs sitting facing it and
this, added to the old fashioned wooden tables and the battered but comfy looking chairs, created a
rather homely, rustic atmosphere that he found pleasing. The only evidence of modernity was the
large television screen mounted in the corner opposite the fire which was currently showing a live
football match. As a result, the pub was extremely busy and although a few heads turned at his
entrance, no one paid him particular notice, the regulars swiftly turning their attention back to
the football.

He weaved his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the room for his former Potions
Professor, but he did not recognise him amongst the throng. Just as he was beginning to wonder if
this was a wasted journey, he heard the familiar voice.

‘Potter.’

Harry turned to the source of the voice and immediately saw the head of Severus Snape as he
leaned around the wing of one of the high armchairs placed in front of the fire. He approached and
settled himself into the seat opposite, finding the chair improbably comfortable as he did so.

‘Snape,’ he replied, without rancour. He saw that the man was dressed in comfortable Muggle
attire; an old pair of black jeans and a black shirt. *Always with the black*, thought
Harry.

Snape indicated to a bottle of Scotch and two glasses that lay on a small table in front of
them. There was also a small jug of water. Bemused, Harry leaned forward and poured himself a
liberal measure of whisky, before adding a splash of water. He sat back and saw that Snape was
watching him with amusement, waiting for him to finish.

‘Slainte,’ said Snape, raising his glass.

‘Slainte,’ replied Harry before taking his first drink. He only took a small amount though –
this was no time to be losing his self control.

‘Well?’ asked Snape, an eyebrow raised as he glanced at Harry’s glass.

Harry considered the question. ‘Marvellous,’ he finally replied before indulging in another sip.
He noticed that Snape seemed content with the answer and it occurred to him that he wasn’t sure how
to react to this Severus Snape. Had it not been for the greasy black hair and hooked nose, Harry
would have doubted the identity of the man sitting before him. A sinister thought crept into his
head.

‘Who did Dumbledore make you shake hands with the night Voldemort returned?’ he asked
suddenly.

Snape looked pleased with the question. ‘Very good, Potter. Finally you are showing some
caution. It was Black I had to shake hands with that night, although I would rather have forgone
such a dubious pleasure. Satisfied?’

Satisfied,’ replied Harry. ‘So what do you have for me?’

‘Straight to the point, Potter? So you finally trust me now?’

‘I spoke to Albus – at least, I spoke to his portrait. He confirmed what you told me, although I
would add that I had already made up my mind on that score. I just wanted to be sure.’

‘Quite right,’ replied Snape. ‘One cannot be too careful these days, and I am gratified that you
are finally taking this seriously. Now to business. The Dark Lord is planning to attack Hogwarts on
the thirtieth of August – he intends to take the school without anyone knowing about it. By doing
so, the returning students will walk right into his arms on September the first. Once the train
arrives at Hogsmeade, the attack on the Ministry will commence. I have prepared a plan to gain
entry to the school and I would appreciate it if you could persuade Scrimgeour to allow us access
without opposition. Only by doing this can we hope to have the Dark Lord where we want him.
Provided of course, you have kept up your end of the bargain,’ he added, his eyebrow arched in
question.

‘We have destroyed another two Horcruxes if that’s what you mean,’ replied Harry.

‘Indeed? I am gratified to hear it. What were the objects that you destroyed? Was I correct
about the graveyard?’

Harry nodded. ‘You were correct – the Horcrux was contained within the gravestone. It was
activated by the ring that cursed Dumbledore.’

Snape’s eyes glistened at the news.

‘But,’ continued Harry, ‘when we activated the key it alerted Voldemort. He must have created a
link between himself and the stone. Just after we released and destroyed it he showed up in the
graveyard.’

‘What happened?’ Snape asked breathlessly.

‘He didn’t see me – I had fallen after destroying the soul fragment. He saw Ron and Hermione
before we escaped though.’

Snape considered Harry’s words for a moment. ‘This explains a lot,’ he finally said. ‘The Dark
Lord has was furious on Saturday and ordered attacks on the Weasleys and Grangers. He also
disappeared for a few days. I presume he was checking on all of his Horcruxes. He will know
now.’

Harry nodded. ‘He won’t be able to check the one at Hogwarts until he gets there on the
thirtieth. That has been destroyed too.’

‘What was it?’ asked Snape, his curiosity getting the better of him.

‘It was Riddle’s award for special services to the school.’

Snape closed his eyes. ‘All this time and it was sitting right under our noses. A pity.’ He
opened his eyes. ‘You do realise that this changes things somewhat?’

‘In what way?’

‘Up until now, the Dark Lord has been oblivious to the destruction of his Horcruxes. Now that he
knows, he will be more on guard than usual and he will be particularly protective of his remaining
Horcrux. He has always kept that snake close; I surmise that he will keep it even closer now.’

‘So what do we do?’ asked Harry. ‘Do we take them together?’

‘If we must, but I am hopeful that it will not come to that. I have made contingency plans for
such a scenario. I want you to work on the assumption that Nagini will be destroyed before you have
to face him. Understood?’

Harry gave at his former Professor a long look. He knew he was being asked to take a huge amount
on trust here. Finally he nodded. ‘Understood.’

‘Good.’ Snape paused before continuing as a roar from the pub regulars indicated that someone
had scored in the football match. He waited for the hubbub to die down, his face betraying his
displeasure. Harry found the whole situation hilarious.

‘Something amuses you, Potter?’ sneered Snape.

‘Oh, nothing really. I just never had you down for someone who enjoyed this sort of thing. The
art gallery I can understand, but this?’ he indicated to the pub at large with a sweeping gesture
of his arm. ‘I never figured you for a bar fly, Severus.’

‘There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,’ snapped Snape. ‘Why would you presume to
know what my personal preferences are? As it happens, I enjoy the anonymity of Muggle pubs as it is
one of the few places a man can be alone when surrounded by others. No one bothers me in a place
like this.’

‘You hardly encouraged me to find out what your preferences are, did you? You hated me before I
even set foot in Hogwarts.’ Harry could not keep the bitterness from his voice as he said this.

‘That is of no importance,’ replied Snape.

‘Considering the destruction of Voldemort has been left to the two of us, I would say that it
has become quite important, wouldn’t you? Why do you hate me so much? Is it purely because of my
father? Because if it is then you are a pettier man than I gave you credit for. The sins of the
father should not be visited upon the son.’

Snape did not reply for a moment, and Harry thought he had gone too far as his former Professor
had a look of pure rage on his face. When he finally spoke, it was done haltingly, as if he was
measuring each word before speaking.

‘I must confess that my relationship with your father did not help, but that is not all there is
to it.’ He sighed. ‘I have known since your parents were murdered that you were the one marked to
destroy the Dark Lord. Dumbledore informed me of the full extent of the prophecy after they died. I
must confess that I resented this as I had always believed that it would be I who had the honour of
performing such a deed.’

‘Honour?’ asked Harry in disbelief. ‘You call being orphaned as a baby and having a madman
trying to kill you an honour?’

Snape ignored the outburst. ‘What made it worse was the fact that it was quite plain from the
start that you would not be up to the task. You knew nothing of our world and you coasted through
school as if it was all a game. It is true I was harder on you than others, but this was mainly
because I knew that you needed to be tougher than the others. The fate of our entire world rested
on your shoulders and yet you did not seem capable of taking even the most elementary magic
seriously. I was angry with you, and I must confess that my hatred of your father made this anger
easier to harness.’

‘That can’t be it,’ replied Harry. ‘You weren’t just angry with me. You despised me. You do
despise me,’ he corrected. ‘Why?’

‘Because you received all the credit for something you never did,’ replied Snape, and this time
there was real emotion in his voice. ‘I had been working in secret against the Dark Lord and yet I
was despised by my own kind who believed I was a Death Eater. I was put on trial; I was spat upon
and shunned and all because I was forced to work in secret. And then your mother – a woman I had a
very high regard for – gave her life to save you and in doing so diminished the Dark Lord for
years. And who received the credit for this success? Who received the adulation and the goodwill?
You did. A worthless wizard who had no idea of the sacrifices made on his behalf. That is why I
despised you.’ Snape was breathing heavily after this outburst as if the act of finally releasing
his pent up emotions had taken a physical toll.

Harry said nothing for a long moment; instead staring straight into the eyes of the man who had
tormented him for six years. ‘You had a high regard for my mother? Even though she was
Muggleborn?’

‘I did. Your mother was one of the few people I have met who judged me for what I was, not for
what I was perceived to be. I will be forever grateful to her for that. It is the deepest regret of
my life that I allowed her fondness for your father to come between us. We parted in anger – I said
something unspeakable to her such was my rage with your father – and I have never forgiven myself
for that folly. You are a living testament to the greatest mistake of my life and I suppose I had
difficulty in dealing with that. How could I not resent you?’

Harry digested this new information and discovered that he actually felt sorry for the man
sitting in front of him.

‘I neither need nor want your pity, Potter. Save it for those that give a damn,’ said Snape,
suddenly.

*Why do I always forget this man can read minds*, thought Harry. ‘You are wrong you know,’
he finally said.

‘Wrong? About what?’

‘About the biggest mistake of your life. It seems to me that parting from my mother in anger has
not been your greatest error. No; your greatest folly has been to allow the bitterness to eat away
at you all these years.’ Harry was becoming angry now. ‘You knew all along that I would have to
face Voldemort and yet you threw every obstacle you could in my way because of the anger you felt
for a mistake that *you* made. *Your* mistake, Severus, not mine. Is your ‘high regard’
for my mother so shallow that you are willing to carry your bitterness for twenty years and vent
your own frustration on her only child? Is that what she would have wanted, do you think? Or do you
think she would have wanted you to help her son in any way that you could so that he would be ready
to face the destiny that had been thrust upon him?’ Harry’s tone was scathing, the contempt that he
was feeling obvious.

Snape looked as if he had been slapped. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing was
forthcoming. Instead he lifted his tumbler and took a long drink of whisky. Harry was astonished to
see that Snape’s hands were actually shaking; that the normally unflappable Potions Professor was
actually unable to control his own movements. At seeing this, Harry’s anger abated and once again a
great feeling of pity washed over him for this lonely, twisted man sitting before him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry finally said. ‘I went too far. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have
presumed to understand. And for what it’s worth, I think my mother would be grateful that you are
helping me now, despite your feelings for me.’

Snape looked up from his glass. ‘You mean that, don’t you? Despite everything you still feel
sorry for me and are trying to make me feel better? I have said before Potter, your sentiment is a
weakness that the Dark Lord will use to destroy you.’

‘It isn’t a weakness, Severus. Dumbledore taught me that. My sentiment, as you call it, is what
makes me different from Voldemort. Whether he destroys me or not is irrelevant in that regard. By
remaining true to myself I cannot be beaten. If I was ever to forget my humanity, however, then
Voldemort’s victory would be absolute. I will never allow that to happen.’

Snape seemed to consider this. ‘I will never understand Gryffindors,’ he said, shaking his head
ruefully. ‘I will not pretend to you, Potter; I don’t think we will ever be able to lay our past
differences aside, but I promise that I shall help you in any way that I can. For your mother’s
memory, if nothing else. And for what it’s worth, I don’t despise you. Not anymore.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Harry, gravely. He wanted to move past this; the conversation had become
too personal; too raw for both of them. He considered what to say next.

‘So, you said you wanted me to arrange access for you to Hogwarts on the thirtieth? You must
have a plan in mind. What do you propose?’

Snape seemed grateful that the conversation was moving onto more familiar ground.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do have a plan in mind.’ He lifted the whisky bottle and poured
Harry another glass, almost as if it was a symbol of the new understanding the two of them had
reached. ‘Here, drink up and listen. There is a lot for you to take in.’

**Thursday 21st August 1997**

Rufus Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was
sitting at the kitchen table in The Briars accompanied by James Walsh, Ron, Hermione and Harry. He
had just spent the last ten minutes listening patiently as Harry narrated his account of his
meeting with Snape – including his final request to meet at the same time and place in one week -
and was taking a few moments to digest the information. He had not said anything, preferring
instead to let James Walsh ask the questions when something needed clarified. They were able to
enjoy some privacy for this conversation as the ‘lodgers’ had all left the previous evening. Rufus
had finally sorted out alternative accommodation for the Weasleys and Grangers.

‘So Voldemort is planning to capture the school a few days early?’ he finally asked.

‘He is,’ replied Harry, ‘and Snape suggests that we let him capture it. That way he may be
lulled into a false sense of security. Snape explicitly asked that we do not interfere when
Voldemort makes his initial move on the thirtieth. He also needs us to lower the protections on the
castle.’

James nearly spat out the tea he had been drinking, such was his outrage. ‘He’s not asking much
is he?’ he said sarcastically. ‘Only that we surrender the strongest bastion in magical Britain to
someone who wants to bring down our society. Why would he think we would be willing to do
that?’

‘Because he says that for once the Minister of Magic is someone with the brains to know that it
is the right thing to do,’ replied Harry, looking directly at Rufus. ‘He said that the Minister
would appreciate the reasons and would agree.’

All eyes turned to Rufus and he found himself enjoying the moment. *So Snape thinks I am
intelligent?* He thought. *Coming from that man, I really will take that as a complement.*
He smiled at the expectant faces.

‘Snape is correct, and I would add that I am extremely glad that he is on our side after all –
he would make a formidable enemy.’ He noticed the looks of confusion on the faces of Ron and James,
but was not surprised to note that both Harry and Hermione had a look that suggested that they too
appreciated Snape’s plan. ‘If we let Voldemort take the castle unopposed then we will have him
where we want him. He will be expecting the students to return on the first of September so we have
over a week to formulate our plans. We know now that he will be in Hogwarts from the thirtieth and
he will be in a comfort zone, thinking that he is the hunter waiting to spring the trap. Instead,
the hunter has become the hunted. He is now the one walking into a trap.’

‘But the school,’ said Ron. ‘How can we let him take Hogwarts?’

‘We can let him because we finally get to know where he is. I will have every available Auror
ready to spring the trap. This is the chance I have been waiting for since his return. He will be
expecting a trainload of harmless students; he’s in for a big surprise.’ Rufus could barely contain
his excitement and had punched his hand as he said this.

‘Do you think you are strong enough to take him?’ asked Hermione. She felt the eyes on her at
the question and almost wilted under Rufus’ scrutiny, but she ploughed on. ‘I mean, this is
Voldemort we are talking about; not to mention his Death Eaters – there could be about fifty of
them. Let’s not forget how powerful a wizard he is.’

Rufus regarded her for a moment. ‘Don’t worry, Hermione; I am not likely to underestimate him -
or his followers. It is true; he is probably the most powerful wizard alive today and he possesses
many, many qualities. But I have the numbers – I can call upon at least 150 Aurors. Voldemort is
about to discover that quantity is a quality all by itself.’

He stood up abruptly and indicated for James to do likewise. He looked at his watch. ‘We have to
go – no time to join you for lunch I’m afraid. We have a lot of planning to get through in order to
have everything ready. Don’t worry; I will keep you informed of everything that we do.’ He strode
towards the fireplace. ‘I will be in touch, Harry’ he added, shaking hands with him before joining
James in the fireplace.

‘This is the best news I have had in a long time. Thank you, Harry’ he said, before disappearing
in a flash.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, taken aback by the suddenness of Rufus’ departure.

‘I hope he knows what he is doing’ he finally managed to say.

********

Just over an hour later the three friends sat having lunch together, the meeting with Rufus not
having destroyed their appetites – at least, not Ron’s anyway. They had just finished eating when
Ron asked the question that had been playing on all of their minds.

‘So, are you going to tell him?’

Harry looked up at his friend. ‘Tell who what?’ he asked, prevaricating.

Ron rolled his eyes. ‘Tell Rufus about the Horcruxes of course!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you going to
tell him?’

Harry took a moment before answering. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally replied.

‘Harry,’ began Hermione, ‘I think you have to tell him. He will be basing his plans on the fact
that Voldemort can be killed. We know that isn’t true at the moment. We have to tell him.’

‘I know, Hermione. I know. It’s just that Dumbledore made me swear not to tell anyone apart from
you two. It just feels like I would be betraying him somehow if I was to tell Rufus.’

‘That’s just daft, Harry,’ said Ron. ‘Dumbledore couldn’t have known how things were going to
turn out. People could die if we don’t tell Rufus. Dumbledore would understand that. If we don’t
have all the Horcruxes destroyed then there is no point in attacking.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that!’ snarled Harry. ‘Do you think that I don’t spend nearly every
waking moment thinking about what needs to be done?’ He calmed himself with an effort, feeling
disgusted with himself as he saw the look of hurt on Ron’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Ron; this isn’t your
fault.’ He sighed. ‘I will tell Rufus, but only once he has finalised his plans. I will tell
everyone who needs to know. Fair enough?’

Ron nodded. ‘Fair enough, Harry.’



12. Best Laid Plans
-------------------

**Chapter 12 – Best Laid Plans**

**Saturday 23rd August 1997**

‘Very well ladies and gentlemen. Is there any other business?’ asked Rufus Scrimgeour as he
surveyed his colleagues who were seated around the large mahogany table in one of the Ministry’s
many conference rooms. It was a select group; apart from himself, there were only four others
present. Robert Buckley – Rufus’ successor as head of the Aurors and a man he had known for years;
Liz Theaker, head of the Unspeakables; Dolores Umbrage as personal aide to the Minister; and of
course, James Walsh, his own right hand. Buckley had long understood the close relationship between
James and himself and did not have any issues with the presence of one of his Aurors at such a high
level meeting. Indeed, Robert had also come to appreciate the discretion and common sense of Rufus’
lifelong friend.

‘If I may speak Minister?’ asked Umbrage. ‘I just want to re-cap on what we have agreed. You
state that Headmistress McGonagall has assured you that the wards and protections around Hogwarts
will be sufficient to withstand any attempt by outside forces to take the school?’ The sneer that
she had given at mentioning McGonagall’s name did not go unnoticed by the others in the room.

‘That is correct, Dolores. We must trust the Headmistress in this matter. After all, she will
have a greater understanding of the castle than anyone here. She assures me that no breach is
possible. I have undertaken to leave a small Auror guard in Hogsmeade between now and September the
first should anything untoward occur. I shall beef this force up significantly for the opening of
the school, but in the meantime, the force I send ought to be sufficient. It must be, for our
resources are very thinly stretched. I cannot spare the men before the school opens; as things
stand, I will have to leave the Ministry with an absolute minimum guard force on Monday in order to
cover the school.’

‘And the predicted number of students?’ asked Umbrage. Rufus struggled to maintain his composure
with the woman, knowing what he knew.

‘Our estimates are that the student numbers will be substantially reduced this term – possible
even as low as 150. There is a great deal of uncertainty within our community so this is perhaps
understandable. Nevertheless, I am confident that once the school is opened as normal, parents will
have confidence restored and thus decide to send their children to be educated. There is not much
more we can do at the moment.’

Umbrage nodded.

‘So if there is nothing else?’ asked Rufus. No one spoke. ‘Very well. This meeting is now
closed. Thank you for coming today.’

As everyone stood to leave, Rufus spoke again. ‘Robert? James? If you two wouldn’t mind
remaining for a moment? I wish to go over some of the details concerning the Auror guard in
Hogsmeade.’

The two men sat down again as Rufus escorted Umbrage and Theaker to the door. Once they had gone
he turned to the remaining men in the room. Men he had known for years and men he knew he could
trust.

‘Right,’ he began, rubbing his hands. ‘Now we have planted that little piece of fiction, it’s
high time we reviewed the real plan for next Monday.’

James and Robert both smiled; both were aware of the treachery of Umbrage and the need for the
deception.

‘I sometimes think you wish you were still one of the Aurors,’ said James with a smile.

Rufus didn’t respond, for James’ remark was too close to the truth for comfort.

**************

**Sunday 24th August 1997**

Harry was nervous. It was a quarter past seven in the evening and the others were due to arrive
by half past. In fifteen minutes, Harry would break an oath made to a dead man.

Sukey had approached him earlier that day saying that Rufus wanted to meet with him in order to
go over the final plans for September the first so that he would be able to relate this information
to Snape. Harry had asked Sukey to confirm his assent, but had stipulated that he desired the
presence of Lupin, McGonagall and Arthur Weasley too. A short while later, Sukey had returned to
confirm Rufus’ agreement to Harry’s requests and his promise to make all arrangements.

He was aware that both Ron and Hermione wanted him to do this but he was still not happy about
it. They seemed to sense his mood however, and had given him a wide berth for much of the
afternoon. It was only now that Hermione was trying to give him some moral support by gently
stroking his hand as they sat next to each other on the sofa. Not a word was spoken.

The fire flashed as the first of the guests began to Floo in. Harry did not rise to greet them,
instead letting Ron deal with the pleasantries and the refreshments. Soon everyone was seated
around the kitchen table and all looking expectantly at Harry who remained standing at the end. He
did not know what to say.

Rufus seemed to sense his discomfort and so decided to break the ice.

‘Well, Harry, I must thank you for agreeing to see me this evening. I was hoping to go over the
plans for next week but I must confess I was taken aback somewhat at your request to make sure I
brought along everyone else,’ he said with a smile. He realised, however, that Harry did not smile
in return. ‘What is it that you wish to tell us?’

Harry hadn’t been sure how to begin this conversation, but he finally decided that the best
approach was to get right to the point.

‘At the moment, Voldemort cannot be killed,’ he said.

He watched the reactions of the others, seeing a mixture of bemusement, confusion and curiosity
on everyone’s face save McGonagall, who already knew. No one spoke for a moment.

‘What? How?’ James Walsh finally asked. ‘Of course he can be killed. I know he is powerful but
he’s not immortal, is he?’ He saw the look on Harry’s face. ‘*Is he*?’ he asked again, this
time uncertainty in his voice.

Harry paused for a moment. ‘Do any of you know what a Horcrux is?’

He could tell right away from the reactions that Rufus, James and Arthur did not know. Remus,
however, had gone white.

‘I do,’ said the old Marauder. ‘It is an object used as a receptacle for a fragment of someone’s
soul after they have split it.’

‘How does one split one’s soul?’ asked Arthur, incredulously.

‘I do not know of the spell myself, but I do know that in order to carry out such an unnatural
act, only the darkest magic will suffice. One must commit murder to seal the spell as the act of
murder tears the soul. It is very old and dark magic.’ He looked to the others, the teacher in him
coming out for a moment. ‘If someone splits their soul in two, he can place a part of it inside an
object – the Horcrux - for safety. If that person is killed – or rather, disembodied – then the
soul fragment in the Horcrux keeps that person tethered to our world. They cannot be killed.’ He
looked at Harry, almost scared to ask the next question.

‘Is this how Voldemort was able to return? He split his soul in two?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Not quite, Moony. Seven,’ he said quietly. ‘He split his soul into
seven.’

He saw the impact of these words strike home. Remus looked as if he was going to be sick.
Glancing at Arthur, Harry noticed that he too had turned pale. James and Rufus sat stoically, both
struggling to deal with this new information.

‘So we have to find seven Horcruxes before we can kill him?’ James finally asked. His voice was
hoarse. ‘In that case, we must call off the attack. You should have told us about this sooner,
Harry,’ he added, accusingly.

‘No, you don’t understand, James,’ replied Harry. ‘He only made six Horcruxes – the seventh part
of his soul still resides within his body. And we have managed to destroy five of them. Me, Ron and
Hermione that is. And Dumbledore before his death,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘That is what we
have been working on and why I had to disappear.’

He tried to ignore the looks of admiration and awe on the faces of those gathered round the
table. And pride. McGonagall was beaming at him.

Remus stood suddenly and embraced Harry, who was taken aback by this demonstration.

‘Do you have any idea what you have achieved, Harry?’ Moony asked. ‘What all of you have
achieved?’ he added, looking at Ron and Hermione. ‘You three really are the most remarkable young
people I have ever had the privilege to know. James and Lily would be so proud of you.’

‘Thanks, Remus’ said Harry. ‘That means a lot.’

Rufus regarded the three teenagers for a moment, eyeing each in turn. ‘So this is what you have
been doing all this time?’ he finally asked, the astonishment evident in his voice.

Harry nodded.

‘Why didn’t you ask for help? We could have put all our resources into the search.’

‘Because Dumbledore asked me not to,’ replied Harry. ‘No offence meant, but I didn’t know I
could trust you. Also, the more people that knew of this, the more chance Voldemort would discover
what we were doing.’

‘So he doesn’t know?’ asked James. ‘About you having destroyed five of his Horcruxes?’

Harry looked grim. ‘He does now. He nearly caught us when we destroyed the fifth one last
Saturday.’

‘Did he see you?’ asked Rufus.

‘No, but he did see Ron and Hermione.’

‘So that’s why he was so keen to attack your families,’ said Rufus, the realisation dawning. ‘So
there is one left to destroy? Is that why you are telling us now? Have you any idea what it
is?’

‘Yes, is the answer to all of your questions Rufus. Dumbledore believed that his snake, Nagini,
is the final Horcrux. Snape confirms this. He says that Voldemort keeps her particularly close and
that she has hardly been out of his sight since he nearly caught us last week.’

‘So we must kill the snake before tackling Voldemort?’ asked Arthur.

Harry nodded. ‘Yes. But Snape says that he will deal with it.’

Rufus considered this for a moment. ‘We are trusting that man an awful lot at the minute. Do you
believe he will be as good as his word?’

‘Yes, I do. I believe him. He said he has a plan to destroy the snake. He said I was to assume
that it would be removed when the time came to face Voldemort. I have to trust him.’

‘So why tell us now?’ asked James.

‘You needed to know,’ replied Harry simply. ‘You will have made your plans for the attack on the
school, but you have done so without this knowledge. If we kill Voldemort but the snake escapes
then it will have all been for nothing. We must be sure Snape has done his part.’

Rufus regarded Harry for a long moment. Finally he nodded. ‘Very well. We will have to trust
Snape. Thankfully, this does not affect our plans over much. If he can destroy the snake then it
will make no difference at all. If he can’t? Then hopefully we can at least disembody Voldemort.
That should certainly cramp his style enough for us to pursue the snake afterwards.’

‘So what is the plan then?’ asked Hermione, who up until now had remained silent.

‘It’s quite clever really,’ replied Rufus. ‘We let Voldemort take the school. On September the
first he will be expecting the arrival of students. We give him students – or at least we give him
a full squad of Aurors disguised as students.’ He smiled. ‘Not so much a Trojan Horse; more of a
Trojan Train. At the same time, we prepare a trap in the Ministry. Voldemort is banking on secrecy,
so he will not be expecting us to be ready.’

‘That simple?’ asked Ron.

‘There is nothing simple about it, Mr Weasley,’ replied Rufus. ‘Have you any idea how difficult
it is to obtain that amount of Polyjuice potion at such short notice? I had to consult with one of
our Unspeakable friends in order to obtain their stock. And the organisation involved in obtaining
the necessary samples of hair and such is quite a challenge, believe me. Not to mention trying to
keep the whole thing quiet.’

‘So how are you going to do it?’ asked Harry, curious now.

‘We will obtain the samples on Platform Nine and Three Quarters before the train leaves. An
Auror guard will be expected at the station anyway. We will prevent any students from actually
boarding the train and take whatever samples we need at that point. The potion will be ready – all
we will need to do is add the final ingredient.’

‘Clever,’ acknowledged Hermione. ‘What about students who want to travel? I can think of a few
who will want to help. Neville Longbottom, for one.’

‘We cannot have students getting in the way,’ said James. ‘It could put the whole operation at
risk – they are not sufficiently trained.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Harry. ‘Neville is old enough – so are some of the others who were in
the defence club. And don’t forget that a number of these students fought off a Death Eater attack
the night Dumbledore died. Can we really afford to turn volunteers away considering what we are
going to be facing? And what about us? You can’t expect us to remain behind.’

James glanced at Rufus before replying. ‘We were not intending to allow you to go,’ he replied
meekly. He held up his hands as if to head off the expected onslaught from the three teens. ‘I said
we *were not* intending to let you go. It would seem that this decision was somewhat hasty, in
light of recent developments.’

‘Besides,’ began Ron, who began to speak before actually engaging his brain, ‘Harry needs to be
there. He’s the only one who can kill Volde…’

‘Ron!’ shouted Harry and Hermione together. Ron clamped his hand over his mouth. ‘Oh shit!’

A devastating silence greeted this revelation. No one spoke for nearly a minute – instead, the
five adults in the room all stared at Harry. Finally, Rufus broke the tension.

‘Now that Ron has let the cat out of the bag, Harry, would you mind elaborating on what he
said?’

Harry inwardly cursed. He had really hoped to avoid this ever coming out, but he realised that
Rufus was entitled to know. For the plan to succeed, Harry *had* to be in position to face
Voldemort.

‘It’s true,’ he finally said, with a deep sigh. ‘It’s all true. There was a prophecy – made
before I was born - and it basically said that I am the only one that can kill Voldemort. It’s why
he came after me when I was a baby and why my parents died. Either I kill him or he kills me.’ He
sat down. ‘It’s all true what they have been saying about me. I am the bloody ‘Chosen One,’ he
added bitterly.

He placed his head in his hands and suddenly felt the soft touch of Hermione as she gently
rubbed his back. No one quite knew what to say now.

When he finally looked up he noticed that Remus, Arthur and Minerva were all weeping quietly.
Finally, Remus spoke.

‘We never knew,’ he said brokenly. ‘All this time and we never knew. How have you been able to
cope with this?’

Harry shrugged. He did not have an answer to that. ‘It doesn’t matter, Remus. What’s done is
done. I learned a long time ago to accept it.’

‘When did you find out?’ asked Arthur.

‘The night Sirius died. Dumbledore told me after what happened at the Ministry.’ Remus almost
collapsed at this revelation.

Rufus looked at Harry and realised now what Albus had meant in his letter when he had written
that Harry was ‘*our best and only hope.’* He tried to keep the pity from his voice when he
finally spoke.

‘So it has to be you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Our job is just to make sure we give you a shot at
him?’

Harry nodded.

Rufus looked at Harry, and his eyes blazed.

‘Then, damn it, we will do everything we can to make sure you get the chance!’ He thumped his
fist on the table. ‘Don’t you worry, Harry. You will defeat him! You will have our full
support!’

Harry had no response to this. At that moment he felt overwhelmed, as if all the burdens he had
been carrying had finally proved too much for him. He flashed Rufus what he hoped was a grateful
look before turning and leaving the room. He couldn’t face any more of this right now.

***********

Hermione left just after Harry, concern etched on her face. She followed him upstairs and
approached the door to his room cautiously. She gave it a soft rap.

‘Harry? It’s me. Can I come in?’

She did not receive a reply, so tentatively opened the door. She saw him sitting in a chair by
the window, looking more lost and alone than she had ever seen him. She felt her heart break, but
knew that right now, he needed her to be strong.

‘Are you OK?’ she whispered, the question sounding foolish, even to her. *Of course he wasn’t
OK! Who was right now?*

‘I’ll be fine, Hermione,’ he replied, without turning to look at her. ‘It’s just that so much
has happened recently. It’s a lot to take in. First Snape; then the Horcruxes; and now this. I
never thought I would have to tell anyone this stuff. People think I’m a freak enough as it is,’ he
added, bitterly.

Hermione didn’t say anything to this, thinking it best to let Harry take the lead. She was
content for him just to know that she was there if he needed her.

‘Do you know that I have been cursing the wrong men all summer?’ he finally asked.

Hermione said nothing, surprised at the seemingly irrelevant remark and knowing that he was not
expecting an answer.

‘First of all, it was Rufus and the bloody Ministry,’ Harry continued. ‘Look at us now - I
couldn’t have done any of this without him. Then there was Snape. I wanted to hurt him so badly the
night Dumbledore died – I never knew I could hate that much. And now? Well, whilst we’re not
exactly bosom buddies, I do understand him better, and I know that he is not a bad person. Then I
was angry with Dumbledore for dying.’ He finally turned to look at her as he said this. ‘Can you
believe that? As if he wanted to die? I felt like he abandoned me.’ He sighed. ‘I should have
spoken to his portrait right after he was killed. It would have saved me a lot of bother. And now,
just when I had finally come to terms with all of that, this happens,’ he added, with a vague wave
of his arm towards the stairs.

‘You weren’t to know, Harry. It was understandable that you were angry with him – after all, he
did leave you with quite a task to accomplish. It’s only natural that you felt abandoned. And I
know you hate all the attention, but you were right to tell Rufus. He does need to know.’

Harry nodded, but did not look her in the eye.

‘Is there something else bothering you, Harry?’ she asked shrewdly.

‘It’s hard to explain, Hermione. I don’t know if you will understand.’

‘Try me.’

Harry sighed. ‘I don’t think I can do this, Hermione. Everyone seems to think I will defeat
Riddle, but I don’t think I can. It’s nearly time to finally face him and I’m afraid, Hermione.
Afraid of letting everyone down.’

‘Don’t be, Harry. You are working wonders, and you are more powerful than you give yourself
credit for. I’m sure you will defeat him.’

‘That’s the problem, Hermione,’ he replied, looking straight at her. ‘It’s not that I don’t
think I can fight him; it’s more that I don’t know if I can kill him. *Either must die at the
hand of the other*, remember? I don’t think I have it within me to kill someone, Hermione, even
Voldemort. So what am I going to do? How can I possibly face him knowing that I don’t have it in me
to kill him?’ This last question was asked with such despair that Hermione had to bite her lip to
stop herself from crying. She knew that her tears were the last thing he needed to deal with right
now.

Unfortunately, she did not know what he did need. For once, she lacked an answer, so had to
content herself with moving across the room to him and holding him tight, hoping that the love she
was conveying would be enough.

They remained like that together for some time, although neither had any idea how long had
passed. Finally, Harry released her and tentatively reached up to kiss her. She responded
gratefully and they lost themselves in each other, driving out for that one sweet moment all the
fears and terrors that lay ahead.

They broke apart and Harry smiled at her; a smile that almost broke her heart.

‘C’mon,’ he said, ‘No time for play at the moment. We had better go back and re-join the
others.’

***********

**Wednesday 27th August 1997**

Harry sat in the same armchair as the previous week and waited for Snape to arrive. He was
feeling benevolent tonight and had decided to stand the drinks. It was only fair, he supposed;
Snape had provided the whisky last time.

Thankfully, the Old Smiddy was a lot quieter this time as there was no football on to attract a
large crowd. Instead, only a few regulars were dotted about the place; all men and all over forty.
It also occurred to Harry that most of them were alone too. He felt a surge of pity for Snape as he
realised that this was the man’s only means of release. He at least had his friends. *And his
girlfriend*, he thought, with a smile.

The door to the pub swung open and Severus Snape entered, casting a quick glance to establish
whether Harry was present. He was once again dressed in black. He cast a quick look around the room
before approaching and Harry was sure that in that one swift sweep of the room, Snape had taken in
everything and had decided that there were no obvious dangers present.

‘Potter,’ he said curtly as he sat down across from Harry.

‘Snape,’ Harry replied. He indicated to the bottle and glasses on the table. ‘Help yourself,
it’s the same stuff as last week.’

Snape nodded his appreciation and poured himself a measure, adding some water before sitting
back and regarding Harry.

‘So have you finalised your plans?’ he asked, taking a sip.

‘We have,’ replied Harry. ‘Rufus has agreed to your suggestions. You will not be opposed when
trying to gain entry to the castle.’

‘How do we get in? We can’t just walk in the front door.’

‘I know,’ replied Harry, trying to hide his annoyance at the obvious statement. ‘You are aware,
are you not, that there are a number of secret passages that run into the school?’

Snape nodded. ‘Yes, but I am not certain where they all are. Is there a specific one you have in
mind?’

‘Yes,’ replied Harry. ‘There is one that runs from Honeydukes straight into the school. I am
sure that it shouldn’t prove too difficult for you to gain entry. Rufus has arranged it so that
only a minimal guard will be in Hogsmeade; just be sure that you don’t harm them.’

‘That will not be a problem,’ replied Snape. ‘The idea is for us to get into the school
undetected – we could hardly do this if we attack an Auror guard, could we?’ he asked,
scathingly.

Harry was too relieved to be annoyed by Snape’s tone. One of his – and Rufus’ – greatest
concerns was the danger posed to the Aurors who were to be posted in the village. They could not be
told of the plan in full and so were left dangerously exposed to attack. Snape’s assurances that
Voldemort did not want to engage this guard came as a huge relief to him.

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘What of Minerva? She will be in the school too, and there is a chance that
some of the other teachers will also be present. Voldemort would be suspicious if they were not
there. What will become of them?’

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I do not think the Dark Lord will harm them – provided
they offer no resistance. It might be an idea to make sure that any teacher present is a half-blood
at least – that way the Dark Lord will not be tempted. Hagrid, for one cannot be present. The Dark
Lord would not tolerate his presence. Filius too, should not be there. And make sure they know not
to resist; only then will they be spared.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I can’t, but the Dark Lord will need these people.’ He noticed that Harry looked confused.
‘What you need to understand, Potter, is that the Dark Lord does not wish to kill everyone who does
not support him. If that were the case there would only be a few hundred of us left. No, he will
need people like the Hogwarts teaching staff, whether they support him willingly or not. His dream
is not to destroy our society; it is to purify it. Those that he cannot persuade he will coerce. He
wishes to be an absolute ruler, not a benevolent leader. Those that do not comply will be crushed.
Fear is a tool for him; it will not matter to him what motivates someone to obey him – so long as
they do obey him. If the teachers do as he wishes they will not be harmed.’

Harry took a moment to digest this little lesson, but it did make sense. Voldemort would need
people to administer his new world if he won, and so he would need to rely on people who formerly
opposed him. Examples would be made of those who did not comply, he was sure.

‘So how will you gain entry, Potter?’ asked Snape. ‘You and the rest of your little force?’

‘Polyjuice potion,’ replied Harry. ‘The Hogwarts express will be full of Aurors disguised as
students. Voldemort is expecting a load of children – that is what he is going to get. Once in the
school, we can turn the tables on him. He will not be expecting us. Also, we will have a force
ready at the Ministry to deal with whatever transpires there. Rufus knows that the key to this is
Hogwarts, though. He’s willing to sacrifice the Ministry to save the school and get Voldemort.’

Snape looked impressed. ‘I don’t suppose this was your idea?’

Harry flushed. ‘No, Rufus came up with it.’

‘I though as much. Simple; elegant and subtle. It could not have been one of your ideas.’ He was
smiling as he said this. ‘And it was a masterstroke to feed some disinformation to Umbrage. She
reported exactly what Scrimgeour wanted her to. I may yet learn to fear that man; we finally have a
Minister who knows what he is doing.’

Harry nodded his agreement. ‘And what of the snake?’ he asked. ‘You will deal with the
snake?’

‘I said so, did I not?’ replied Snape. ‘Do not fear. The snake will be dealt with. Just make
sure you keep your wits about you. The end is near; one way or the other this will soon be
over.’

Harry looked at Snape thoughtfully.

‘So what will you do?’ he asked. ‘When it is over, I mean.’

‘I do not think on such matters. I do not presume that we will be victorious, or even if we are,
that I will see the end of this. Neither should you, Potter. It does not do to take one’s eye off
the ultimate goal.’

‘There must be something you look forward to? Why fight otherwise?’

‘I fight because I must. The Dark Lord must not be allowed to win – his evil will destroy our
world. That is sufficient reason, is it not? What other reason could there possibly be?’

‘To live,’ replied Harry. ‘To really live. I want nothing more than to put all of this behind me
and live the normal life that I have always been denied. To do what I want rather than what I must.
Is that so hard to understand? There must be something you want to do.’

Snape sighed deeply. ‘I just want to be left alone, truth be told, but I suspect that the
Ministry will not allow me such licence. I believe that they will want me to answer for the death
of Albus.’

‘But he asked you to do it! Surely they cannot hold that against you. The work you are doing at
the moment should be sufficient to convince them that you are not deserving of punishment.’

Snape looked amused. ‘I’m touched by your concern, Potter, but life is rarely as straightforward
as that. Whether he asked me to do it or not is of no importance. I will be forever damned as the
man who killed Albus Dumbledore. Do you honestly think I will be allowed to go back to leading a
normal life? To do what I want to do?’

‘So there is something you want to do then?’ said Harry, smiling. *Gotcha!*

Snape smiled in return. ‘Teaching,’ he said. ‘I love teaching.’ He noticed Harry raise his
eyebrow in surprise. ‘Whilst you may not have approved of my methods, Potter, there are some out
there who do. I have always enjoyed teaching Potions; the talk of the Dark Arts job was just that –
talk. It was necessary to give people the idea that I was obsessed with the Dark Arts. In reality,
I have always preferred the subtlety of potion making. If you paid any attention to my book last
year, you will have realised that I have a certain flair in the art of potion making. I have
experimented a little, but what I would really like is the opportunity to experiment a lot; and to
teach a little I suppose, in order to pass on my findings. I would like to return to Hogwarts – it
is the only place I have ever been able to be myself and the only place I have found happiness. It
does not seem too much to ask, but I am afraid that not many will see it that way.’

Once again, Harry felt a degree of sympathy for the man sitting before him. He was aware of just
how much Snape had sacrificed in order to gain the trust of Voldemort, and he vowed that he would
help this man, if he could. He didn’t think he could ever completely bury the hatchet, but he
reckoned that the man did deserve some peace for everything that he was doing to bring down
Voldemort. Snape was correct. It wasn’t too much to ask.

‘However,’ Snape said, interrupting Harry’s train of thought, ‘we are getting ahead of
ourselves. We still have a Dark Lord to defeat, in case you had forgotten. ‘Have you decided what
you are going to be doing when the attack takes place?’

Harry looked nonplussed. ‘What do you mean? I will be on the train with the others.’

‘Are you sure about that, Potter? Remember, you are dead as far as the Dark Lord is concerned.
Your presence could be noticed.’

‘But I will be disguised too. How will I be noticed?’

Snape closed his eyes in despair. ‘You know, Potter, just when I begin to think that you may be
of some use after all, you say something that reminds me why I never bother making plans for the
future. To think that the future of our world rests with you!’ He shook his head mournfully.

‘What?’ asked Harry, somewhat defensively.

Snape regarded him. ‘Are you not forgetting something, Potter? Forgetting that the Dark Lord may
be able to sense you when you are near?’ He pointed to Harry’s scar. ‘You are linked, remember. If
he even so much as gets a hint that you are alive and nearby, he will know. You cannot be on that
train – when you arrive with the others there is a chance that he will sense you immediately. Do
not underestimate his capabilities.’

‘He never sensed me in the graveyard,’ replied Harry, indignantly. ‘I managed to shield
myself.’

‘I know, but the risk still existed and I imagine that he was in a particularly murderous mood
that morning. He will not lose control of his emotions in that manner on September the first,
believe me. Are you willing to take that risk again? To wager the future of our entire world on
your ability to prevent the Dark Lord from sensing you?’

*Shit*, thought Harry. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He knew instinctively that Snape
was correct. There was an excellent chance that Voldemort would sense him the second he stepped
into his presence. For one thing, Riddle wouldn’t be as angry as he was that day in the graveyard.
‘So what do I do?’ he finally asked.

***********

**Thursday 28th August 1997**

Hermione was angry. And afraid. Harry had returned from his meeting with Snape the previous
night in a very subdued mood and had refused to go into details of his meeting with their former
Professor. She knew right away that something was wrong as he would not meet her eye when she
questioned him. She could always tell when he wasn’t being totally honest with her – in fact, it
was one of the things she loved about him – and right now she knew that there was something he
wasn’t telling her. Even Ron agreed with her assessment, although he was being infuriatingly blasé
about it.

*‘So what if he isn’t telling us something, Hermione? He’s entitled to some secrets, for
goodness sake.’*

*‘Not at the minute he isn’t,’ she had replied. ‘He’s up to something, and you know that when
he is keeping stuff from us then it usually means something bad is about to happen. Or has happened
already.’*

Ron hadn’t wanted to get into an argument, pointing out that Harry would tell them when he was
ready.

And that was why she was afraid. Harry had asked for Rufus and James to visit and she suspected
that whatever he was not telling her and Ron would be revealed when the others arrived. She knew
that Harry was doing this so as to avoid a fight with her, thinking that she would be less likely
to argue in front of others.

*Fat chance*. If she didn’t like what he had to say, then he would soon know of it.

She heard Harry coming down the stairs and turned in her seat to face the window, her arms
folded across her chest. Even Harry would notice that she was not happy with him right now.

For his part, when Harry entered the room he immediately glanced over to the window and saw
Hermione sitting with her back to him, a cold shoulder turned towards him. He smiled ruefully. He
knew why she was angry with him, but this was nothing compared to what he knew was coming his way
when he finally told her what he had refused to mention thus far. He was nervous – not about what
he had already decided to do – but about Hermione’s reaction when he finally told her. He hoped
that the presence of Rufus and James would alleviate some of the fury that would come his way, but
he suspected that this was clutching at straws a little. He glanced towards the fire as he heard it
roar into life and a few moments later, Rufus and James stepped into the room, both dusting
themselves down.

‘Good evening, Harry,’ said Rufus as he approached. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, with a
smile.

‘Hi, Rufus’ replied Harry, shaking the older man’s hand. He greeted James in the same manner.
‘Please, take a seat. There is something I have to discuss with you both.’ He turned as he saw Ron
enter the room, and gave his friend a nod as he joined them at the table. He looked over to
Hermione.

‘Hermione? Could you come and join us please? This is important.’

Hermione considered staying where she was but realised that the desire to discover what Harry
had to say was too strong in her. She rose from her seat and crossed the room to join the others.
She selected the seat farthest from Harry and – once seated – promptly crossed her legs and folded
her arms. She never said a word, nor did she look in his direction.

Harry could see the humour in the situation and it took all of his willpower not to laugh as he
saw the bemused expressions on the faces of Rufus and James who were both casting furious glances
between himself and Hermione. Ron just rolled his eyes at the whole thing.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he began, ‘I wanted to discuss something that Snape mentioned when I met
him yesterday.’ He noticed that all the attention was on him now – even Hermione had deigned to
look at him. *Ah well, here goes*.

‘’I won’t be able to come with you on the train on Monday.’

A shocked silence greeted these words and Harry noticed perplexed looks on everyone’s faces.
Even Hermione looked confused.

‘Why not?’ asked Ron, eventually.

‘Bacuase Snape pointed out that there is a chance that Voldemort will be able to sense me if I
am there.’ He pointed to his scar. ‘He would know something was going on if he felt my presence. He
thinks I am dead. If he discovers otherwise then the operation will be blown. We cannot risk my
presence on that train. The first hint of treachery and Voldemort will lock us out.’

No one spoke for a moment, each person digesting this news. Finally Hermione spoke.

‘I had forgotten about that. Snape’s right, Harry. There is a good chance that Voldemort would
sense you. I know he never sensed you by the graveside, but we had no choice in that situation and
I suspect that his anger saved you that day. We have a choice here. We can’t risk it again.’ She
looked relieved. ‘And to think I was worried you were keeping something sinister from me. You
should have told me, Harry; we can work something out.’

‘We have worked something out,’ he replied.

‘We? Who’s ‘we’?’ asked Hermione.

‘Snape and I.’

Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘So what exactly have you worked out, Harry?’ There was
real menace in the question.

‘Snape proposed that I enter Hogwarts early too – before Voldemort gets there. I can hole up in
the Room of Requirement for a few days until you lot arrive. Snape also pointed out that it might
be a good idea to have me there as a contingency in case anything goes wrong.’ Harry waited for the
onslaught.

‘That’s actually a very good idea, Harry,’ said Hermione, surprising everyone in the room.
‘Voldemort would never suspect that we were already in the school. It’s a great idea.’

‘We?’ asked Harry. ‘You don’t understand, Hermione. It would just be me doing this.’

‘Not a chance!’ shouted Hermione. ‘Give me one good reason why you think I would let you do this
on your own?’

‘Because if you and Ron don’t get off that train, Voldemort will be suspicious,’ replied Harry,
quietly.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth for a moment, unable to think of a response. She looked to
Ron for help, but he just shrugged. She turned her attention to Rufus and James, seeking support
from them, knowing that if they disapproved, Harry would not go.

Rufus cleared his throat. ‘We actually looked at this possibility – of putting a large Auror
force in the school before Voldemort got there – but we decided it was too risky. If Voldemort
sensed anything out of the ordinary then he would simply disappear and the chance would be lost.’
Hermione looked triumphantly at Harry on hearing these words.

‘However,’ Rufus continued, ‘the idea of hiding Harry in the school does have some merit. If he
is the only one who can destroy Voldemort then it would be prudent to be certain that he at least
gets into the school. It does give us a back up in case things go awry. It’s an excellent
idea.’

‘But why can’t I go with him?’ asked Hermione, desperation in her voice.

‘Because Harry is correct. If you and Ron do not get off that train, Voldemort will suspect
something is wrong. It is just as important for you to be seen as it is for Harry to remain hidden.
It cannot be otherwise.’

Hermione looked defeated. ‘Why does it always have to be you?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘We
were supposed to do this together – I promised that I would see you through to the end.’

Harry rose from his seat and walked round the table. He crouched down beside Hermione and took
her hand.

‘You will be with me, Hermione. It will be more dangerous for you – I will be skulking in the
Room of Requirement. When the time comes, you will be by my side. You don’t think I would leave you
there with him alone, do you?’ He embraced her, and she gratefully fell into his arms.

‘So when are you going to Hogwarts, Harry?’ asked Rufus.

‘Tomorrow,’ replied Harry, who felt a sudden increase in pressure around him as Hermione
tightened her grip at these words.



13. Waiting Game
----------------

Thanks again to everyone who has taken the time to post a review.

I’m afraid that there is a not a lot of action in this chapter, but it is necessary to have it
in order to move things along. Ironically – considering not much happens – I have had more trouble
writing this one than any other…

**Chapter 13 – Waiting Game**

**Saturday 30th August 1997**

‘Quiet!’ hissed Severus Snape, holding up his hand as a signal for the others to remain still.
It was half past two in the morning and as he led a large party of nearly fifty Death Eaters
through the winding streets of Hogsmeade, he was thankful that there was a lot of cloud cover
tonight. Conditions were perfect for this operation; the new moon and low cloud meant that the
village was as dark as it was possible to be. He knew that the Aurors on guard duty would be at a
low ebb at this time in the morning, but was equally aware that everything depended on them
remaining undetected.

He approached the door of *Honeydukes* and non-verbally cast the charm to open it. Slipping
inside the store, he approached the cellar and crept down the ladder, discovering the hatch that
Potter had assured him was there. Opening it as silently as he could, he gestured furiously for his
companions to enter and so begin the short trip through the passage to the castle. Bella was first
and did not look pleased.

‘Why can’t we pay a visit to the owners upstairs?’ she whispered. ‘We could have a little fun
with them before entering the school.’

Snape looked at her with contempt. ‘Because we must not be discovered, of course. The Dark Lord
will not tolerate failure, Bella. You heard his orders; no one is to be harmed for the moment. Not
here and not in the school. Will you be the one to disobey the Dark Lord?’

Bella regarded him with a look of pure loathing, but did not demur. Instead, she slipped into
the passageway closely followed by the others. The third person in line was Draco.

Snape was deeply concerned about this aspect of the operation. He knew that Draco did not have
sufficient Occlumency skills to deceive the Dark Lord for any length of time and so was running a
huge risk in having him so close to his master. He knew that they had to take this gamble; wagering
their lives on the assumption that the Dark Lord would be too pre-occupied to notice anything
amiss. He smiled at the irony; he was not willing to let Potter risk discovery and yet had been
forced to take the same gamble himself. Well, some things could not be helped. Snape had given
Draco explicit instructions; stay as far away from the Dark Lord as possible and – once in the
school – find any reason for staying out of his immediate presence. He had also provided his former
student with a Portkey should things go awry. A Portkey and a set of instructions that the young
man had reluctantly sworn to obey.

He nodded curtly at Draco as he passed, the other Death Eaters following in his wake. At the end
of the line, the Dark Lord himself approached the hatch, accompanied by Wormtail and Nagini.

‘Well done, Severus,’ Voldemort said as he watched his pet slither down the hatch after
Pettigrew. ‘I was not aware of such a method of entry. I can see there is much yet to learn about
Hogwarts. I shall enjoy having you teach me.’ He seemed amused by the prospect and nodded to Snape
before entering the passage. Snape took one last glance around the shop looking for evidence of
their passage. Finding none, he too slid into the opening, closing the hatch silently behind
him.

***********

Hermione was sick with worry as she poked at her breakfast with her fork. She had no appetite at
all and had slept badly, feeling strangely abandoned after Harry had left them yesterday. She knew
that by now Voldemort was probably at Hogwarts and the thought of what would happen to Harry if he
was discovered made her feel almost physically sick. She just wanted it all to be over; the waiting
was proving to be harder on her nerves that the prospect of facing Voldemort in person once
again.

She thought back to the previous day when Harry had left for Hogwarts. His departure was an
absolute secret – not even Minerva knew that he was going to enter the school. Rufus had said that
it was better this way; they could not take the chance that someone would slip up and blow the plan
before the operation had even got started. Minerva did not ‘need to know,’ and that was that.

Harry had been nervous, but she had sensed a certain degree of excitement from him too.

*‘You will be careful, won’t you? she had asked.*

*‘Of course.* *You too. You will be in more danger than I, remember. He wants revenge on
you for destroying his Horcruxes. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be going anywhere near the
school.’ The concern in his eyes had been evident.*

*‘Then it’s just as well it is not up to you, isn’t it?’ she had asked with a smile. She could
not keep up the pretence for long, however.*

*‘Oh, Harry,’ she had said, clutching him tightly. ‘Come back to me. I don’t know what I will
do if anything happens to you.’ The prospect of losing him after discovering their love was just
too much to bear.*

*‘I will,’ he had replied. ‘I have many reasons for fighting, Hermione, but only one for
wanting to survive. Before I found you, the prospect of dying did not seem that important so long
as I won. Now I have a reason to live.’ He had lifted her chin with his fingers, his touch
electrifying her. ‘The very best reason,’ he had added.*

He had left then, after a final embrace, and she had never felt as lonely in her whole life; not
even back in first year when she’d had no friends and no life. Now Harry was her life, and he was
in mortal danger.

She glanced up as Ron sat down across from her, a full cooked breakfast in front of him. He
started attacking it with relish. *How could he be so unfeeling!* she thought to herself in
anger. After a few moments, Ron glanced up at her, seemingly aware of her scrutiny and
disapproval.

‘Not hungry?’ he asked.

She shook her head.

Ron considered her for a moment. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Hermione, but you look bloody
awful. You need to eat – and sleep,’ he added as an afterthought.

Hermione flared at these words, angry with Ron for seeming so unconcerned. It was then that she
noticed with surprise and no small degree of shame that his hands were trembling slightly; the
cutlery in his fingers shaking a little. *Of course he was feeling this too. Harry was his best
friend.*

Ron noticed her observation and grinned ruefully. He put down his knife and fork and stared at
her in earnest.

‘Look, Hermione, I know this is not easy, but you have to look after yourself, for Harry’s sake
if nothing else.’ He ignored the sudden glare that she flashed him and ploughed on. ‘We are about
to go into a battle for our lives and we will need all of our wits about us if we are to succeed.
You will be of no use to anyone if you are hungry and exhausted – if anything you will become a
liability. Harry will have enough to deal with as it is without having to worry about your physical
condition. You need to eat and sleep to improve his chances, if nothing else. Do you understand
that?’

He held her gaze, defying her to contradict him. Finally she broke eye contact and hung her
head.

‘You’re right, Ron. I do understand.’ She picked up her knife and fork and looked him in the eye
once again. ‘Thank you,’ she added, before beginning to eat.

***********

Harry put down the book he had been reading and sighed. Glancing at his watch he noticed that it
was lunchtime but he did not feel hungry. Despite this, he picked up his backpack and retrieved
some sandwiches that he had prepared for this mission and began to eat. He knew that he would need
all of his strength when the time came.

It was just like waiting for the first task back in fourth year, he realised. He knew that he
could not avoid what was coming and so just wanted it all to be over, one way or the other. When he
had decided to come to the school early he was aware that the biggest challenge he would have to
face would not be Voldemort; rather it would be the stress and tension – not to mention the tedium
– of waiting for three days for everything to kick off. With nothing else to do, he found himself
dwelling more and more on what lay ahead.

At the moment he felt like he was getting some idea of what it was like to be a condemned
criminal waiting for death. He had heard the adage that ‘nothing concentrates the mind like the
prospect of being hanged in the morning.’ Unfortunately, he now realised ruefully, what the mind
tended to concentrate on was the fact that it was in a body that was going to be hanged in the
morning.*

He shook his head with a twisted grin on his face, amused by the black humour. He really would
need to find something to take his mind off things.

He had arrived in the early hours of Friday morning, utilising the same means of entry that he
knew Snape was going to use the following night. Creeping into *Honeydukes* under his cloak,
he had carefully lifted the hatch and had travelled along the passage until arriving in the school.
He had immediately made his way to the seventh floor, scanning the Marauder’s Map and treading very
carefully so as not to disturb anyone or anything, be it human, ghost or portrait (not to mention
Peeves!) When he had arrived at the bare wall where he knew the room to be, he had begun pacing
three times thinking over and over about needing some place to hole up for a few days. The room had
not disappointed him.

When he had entered, he had been delighted to discover a bed, sofa, stacked bookcases and a
bathroom. It was exactly what he needed (although a TV would have been nice - he’d cursed the fact
that electricity did not work in the school). Since then, his time had consisted of dull routine.
Sleeping when he could, eating when he should and reading when he was doing neither. He wasn’t even
halfway through the waiting time and already he was going stir crazy.

He picked up the Marauder’s Map to see if he could glean an insight into what was going on. He
had woken in the very early hours of the morning and – being unable to get back to sleep - he had
studied the Marauder’s Map for something to do. It was then that he had felt a sudden lurch in his
stomach when he had noticed a particular name amongst the throng of that had appeared since he had
last checked.

*Tom Riddle.*

He had followed Riddle’s footsteps for most of the morning, noticing how he had first entered
the Great Hall and had sat in Dumbledore’s old chair. That had angered him more than he thought it
would.

He then watched the map as all of the teachers had been brought into Voldemort’s presence.
McGonagall, Sprout, Grubbly-Plank and Vector had all been summoned and it was with some relief that
he finally satisfied himself that none of them were being harmed. Evidently they were doing as
Rufus had suggested and were obeying all orders that were addressed to them.

*So far, so good.*

It was at that point that the voice of Lord Voldemort had reverberated throughout the castle.
Harry suspected that he was using a *Sonorus* charm, but whatever he had been using, his
message had been clear. He had been speaking to all of the magical entities within the school. The
ghosts, the portraits and anyone else who might be tempted to report the presence of the invasion
force to outside parties. The words had been stark; if Lord Voldemort was discovered in the school
then every teacher and every portrait within the school would be destroyed. Harry did not expect
anyone – or anything – to defy Voldemort in this matter. Not after that kind of threat.

He had been particularly interested when the footsteps of Tom Riddle had approached the trophy
cabinets in the third floor gallery, for he knew exactly what was going on there. The footsteps had
stopped where Riddle’s award had been placed and Harry had felt a huge degree of satisfaction as he
watched Riddle stand in place for a long moment; surely contemplating the gap where his Horcrux
should have been. The footsteps had strutted off at speed for the Great Hall after that and Harry
could almost feel the anger from where he was sitting.

Glancing around the map now, he noticed a few familiar names. Snape was in his old dungeon, no
doubt going through his old store and dreaming of better times. Bella, he noticed without surprise,
was rarely out of her master’s presence, whereas Draco Malfoy was never in it. It had taken him a
while to notice it, but whenever Voldemort moved around the castle, Draco made a corresponding move
away from his master. Under any other circumstances Harry would have been amused; instead he found
himself wondering what it meant. One thing he did pay particular attention to however; he noticed
that Wormtail was never – not even for a minute – out of Voldemort’s sight. This meant that Nagini
too was never out of her master’s presence if what Snape said was true. Wherever Voldemort went,
the snake would follow. Harry marvelled at what his father and friends had achieved all those years
ago when they created this map. How it managed to detect everyone was beyond him. Their ingenuity
did confirm one thing though. Snape was correct in his assertion; Voldemort *was* keeping his
pet particularly close.

He placed the map back down and removed something from his pocket and regarded the object
carefully. It was an enchanted Galleon; one of the fake coins Hermione had created back in fifth
year for the DA. She had suggested he take one so that she could alert him when the Ministry force
arrived at the school. *Trust her to come up with something so brilliant*, he mused. Right
now, the Galleon was more than a tool; it was a link to Hermione and a reminder of just what a
remarkable person she was. He held the coin tight in his hand as he closed his eyes and attempted
to snatch some sleep.

***********

Lord Voldemort sat in the head’s chair in the Great Hall and tried to conceal his impatience. He
had known that this period of waiting would be the hardest aspect of this mission and so was
determined to set an example to his followers; they would maintain discipline and he would show
them how. Besides, if any were to displease him, they would soon feel his wrath.

It was because he was so close to finally achieving his goal, he knew. He had worked for years
to reach this point and knowing that the hour of reckoning was only a couple of days away made the
waiting harder, not easier. He believed that nothing could go wrong and that it was only a matter
of time before the Ministry fell to him, but he still wanted it to be all over. He tried to enjoy
the anticipation of victory, but found that he could not.

Taking the castle had proved to be surprisingly easy. Severus had been as good as his word and
had managed to find a loophole in the school’s defences that he himself had known nothing about. He
actually felt a little jealous of his chief lieutenant’s knowledge of this castle, previously
supposing his own knowledge of the school to be superior to anyone else. This was the only place he
had ever felt truly at home and it angered him somewhat to realise that there were people who knew
the place more intimately than he did.

But this didn’t matter. He would soon gain this knowledge; Severus would show him all, of that
he had no doubt.

He realised that he would have to reward Severus for his recent efforts and he admonished
himself for ever doubting the loyalty of the man. Severus had shown these past few months exactly
where this loyalty lay. By killing Dumbledore and laying Potter on a plate he had done more for him
than all of his other servants put together. His tact, discretion and wise counsel had proved to be
invaluable and he wished that more of his followers were as reliable and as intelligent as Severus.
He would make it clear to the others that he was to be his own right hand man – he trusted him
enough for that now, although trust was still something of an alien concept to him. He appreciated
the irony of the situation; whilst he had repeatedly claimed that trust was the preserve of fools,
he had now come to realise that everybody had to trust somebody.

Perhaps he would make Severus Headmaster of this very school? He realised that he would make an
excellent choice to implement the educational reforms that were necessary and also believed that
Severus would desire such a reward. He was more than capable of handling the teaching staff.

He considered the other teachers that had been brought before him when they had arrived. He did
not want to slay these people as he knew he would need them. Besides, he respected their magical
ability; the four brought before him were of the highest standard and all pure bloods. This, Lord
Voldemort mused, was what was really going to matter in his new society; the purity of blood. Pure
bloods were to be preferred, obviously, but half bloods were more than acceptable. Within a few
generations he intended to strengthen the old bloodlines; not weaken them. What he would not
tolerate however, was mudblood filth and half breeds like the oaf Hagrid. It was as well for him
that he was not amongst those summoned.

The teachers had been shocked, obviously, particularly after he had issued his threat to the
castle. It would not do to have some portrait informing a counterpart elsewhere. The threat seemed
to have worked though, and he was now unconcerned on that score, although it had been a worry.
After issuing the threat, he had made it clear to the teaching staff that if they accepted his
authority and agreed to teach *his* curriculum, they would be spared. Not surprisingly, all
had agreed. It mattered not if this was due to fear or not; so long as they obeyed.

And then he had gone looking for his Horcrux. His fingers balled into fists as the rage surged
within him when he contemplated the empty space where his award had once stood. *How dare
they!* Not only had they destroyed a fragment of his soul, they’d had the nerve to remove a
legacy of his time at Hogwarts; a lasting reminder of his greatness. He felt violated by this act
and vowed revenge. The blood traitor and mudblood would pay for this insult. Their deaths would not
be pleasant; he would make them reveal everything they knew before destroying them.

He found to his pleasure that he could enjoy the anticipation of *this* particular victory.
With this thought, Lord Voldemort calmed himself and looked forward to the new order that lay
ahead.

***********

**Sunday August 31st 1997**

Rufus Scrimgeour regarded his friend who sat across from him in the Minister’s office. They were
sharing a nightcap and Rufus reflected on just how many times the two of them had done this. He
wondered mirthlessly where the last thirty years had gone. He and James had been through so much
together and he felt reassured by the presence of his old friend.

‘Are you sure everything is arranged?’ he asked.

James smiled. ‘For the tenth time, Rufus, everything is in hand. If we have missed anything then
it is too late now. Please, try not to worry about matters you cannot control.’

Rufus returned the smile. It was an old argument; James was much the more phlegmatic of the two
of them – he never seemed to get worked up about things out with his control. He was, however,
extremely efficient at dealing with those things he could control.

‘How many times is it now?’ he asked.

James raised an eyebrow. ‘That we have done this? Too many, I think. It is always the waiting
that is the hardest part. I thought it would get easier as I got older, but I have learned that
patience still comes hard to me. Not long now, though.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Do you think Harry
can do it?’

Rufus took a long moment before replying. ‘If you had asked me that even a month ago, I would
have thought you mad.’ He shook his head, thinking of Harry alone in the castle, surrounded by his
enemies. ‘I have discovered that Albus was right; Harry really is a remarkable young man. He is
lucky in his two friends also. Perhaps there is some hope for the future after all. The younger
generation may yet save us all.’

‘Speaking of which,’ began James, ‘are you sure that the decision to use unqualified Aurors is
the right one? We cannot afford to rely on inexperience tomorrow.’

Rufus sighed; they had argued about this for days. ‘I am not happy about it, old friend, but we
need every able body we can find. There are over thirty witches and wizards nearing the end of the
training; I cannot afford to ignore them. If it makes you feel any better, I will make sure they
are not in the front line.’

James nodded soberly. ‘I just have concerns about their inexperience.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘No
doubt our superiors thought the same about us all those years ago. It must be a prerequisite of
getting old; one must forget what it is to be young.’

Rufus smiled and refilled their glasses. ‘So, what shall we drink to?’

Their seemed to be only one answer to that, both men thought.

‘To the future! They chorused.

***********

Platform Nine and Three Quarters did not seem nearly as busy as usual, thought Hermione, despite
the presence of dozens of Ministry Aurors. She and Ron had arrived just after nine that morning
having been collected in person by Rufus and escorted to King’s Cross. She had watched with some
trepidation as the first of the Hogwarts students had arrived to take the train. Each had been
asked to pass through a ‘Ministry Security Check Point’ that had been set up in one of the platform
waiting rooms. Once there, these students had been informed that they would not be travelling to
Hogwarts; instead, they were to be transferred to a secure location prepared in advance. The Aurors
on duty had been diligent in ensuring that a sample of hair was obtained before allowing these
people to leave – with an escort. Questions were asked by some of the indignant students (and
parents) but no answers had been forthcoming; only apologies.

There were to be no exceptions apart from those deemed trustworthy and capable enough by her and
Ron. Rufus had explained before they had left the Briars that morning, and had provided them with
another surprise.

*‘I will be relying on the two of you to vouch for the reliability of any students you think
able to help,’ the Minister had said. ‘Normally I would not consider allowing such youth to become
involved, but desperate times call for desperate measures. We will need every wand we can muster
today.’*

*He had then placed his hand into his pocket and produced two envelopes, one for both her and
Ron. Upon opening, Hermione had been slightly disconcerted to discover the Head Girl badge and –
glancing at Ron – saw that he had similarly been rewarded with the position of Head Boy. Strangely,
she had felt saddened. She had desired the appointment since first attending Hogwarts, but now
realised that it was meaningless. Ron too had looked strangely subdued when the realisation had
dawned. He had looked directly at Rufus.*

*‘This shouldn’t be mine; this badge should have gone to Harry.’*

*Rufus had nodded gravely. ‘It does you credit to say so, Ron, but remember that Harry is in
no position to receive the badge. I am sure he would agree that you are deserving of such an
honour. Besides,’ he had added, addressing the two of them, ‘there is an ulterior motive for
receiving these positions. Had Minerva not already appointed the two of you to the roles, I would
have been forced to order that she do so.’*

*‘Why?’ she had asked.*

*‘Because I want the first people off that train and into the school to be real students.*
*They will be watchful today and no matter how skilfully we disguise ourselves, someone may slip
up. If the lead group consists of real students then it may put them at ease. You will be in the
prefect carriage and traditionally the Head Boy and Girl lead the students into the school. Any
students you deem fit to help us will accompany you.’*

The final say on who could go went to Rufus, of course, but so far he had not protested at those
selected. She and Ron had gathered every member of the DA that had come through the barrier and had
explained to them what was going on. Even now, when she thought on it, she felt the emotion well up
inside of her.

She had looked at those gathered in front of her. At Neville and Luna; Susan Bones and Terry
Boot; Dean and Lavender; Padma and Parvati; Ernie and Lee; Seamus and Justin and all the other
members of the DA who had come to hear what she’d had to say. She had noticed the sadness in their
eyes and had remembered that they still thought Harry was dead.

She had told them nearly everything; of how Voldemort awaited them in the school; of the
Ministry plan and of how this was their best chance of defeating him. She had then looked them in
the eye and told them that they were free to choose; that they did not have to come; that no one
would think the less of them for walking away.

A long silence had greeted her words; a silence finally broken by Neville.

*‘You just tell us what to do, Hermione. There is no way any of us are walking away from
this*.’ He had turned to the others before continuing. ‘We *do this for Harry; he would expect
nothing less. We’ll make him proud.’*

The others had cheered their agreement and Hermione had thought her heart was going to burst;
such was the swelling of emotion within her breast. She had blinked back the tears that had
threatened and had been relieved to realise that the others thought she was crying about Harry.

Rufus had been adamant about that. No one – absolutely no one – was to be told about Harry until
the time came for him to reveal himself. Hermione had wanted to argue, but the old Auror had
regarded her gently.

*‘It increases the risk of Harry being discovered, Hermione. That is reason enough for
silence, is it not?’*

She’d had to agree.

Now as she and Ron led the DA members onto the train she cast one last glance down the platform
at Rufus. He was filling his flask with Polyjuice potion but some instinct or other – perhaps the
same instinct that had allowed him to survive twenty five years as an Auror – made him look up at
her.

He smiled and gave her a reassuring nod before stepping onto the train. She turned to the door
and grabbed the handrail. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. Harry needed her to be strong
today.

*Showtime.*

***********

Draco Malfoy slumped into a large armchair in front of the Slytherin common room fire and sighed
deeply. He was feeling exhausted at the moment and put it down to the stress he was feeling. He
glanced at his watch and realised that it would be soon. He knew from his conversation with Snape
that today was the day for him to act.

He had spent the last forty eight hours desperately trying to stay out of the Dark Lord’s
presence. He had originally thought that it would not be too difficult given the size of Hogwarts,
but the Dark Lord had been constantly on the move, examining almost every inch of the school that
had once been his home. It had been a complicated exercise for him to think of reasons and excuses
to be somewhere else whenever word came through of the Dark Lord’s approach. It had only been
yesterday – after his master had visited the Slytherin common room – that Draco had realised that
it was the perfect place to go. The Dark Lord would not return here and no one would think it odd
for Draco to take up residence in what had been his own home a few short months earlier.

He twiddled his wand in his fingers as he questioned whether he would be able to carry out the
instructions from Snape. His former Professor had provided him with a Portkey so he was aware that
he could escape at any time. But Snape had warned him of the consequences of such action. Follow
orders and then escape; try anything else and there would be repercussions. The implied threat in
Severus’ voice when he said that had been evident.

He still did not know what his former teacher was up to. Draco was no fool; he knew that
something would happen today but he had no idea what. When he had asked Snape for more details, he
had been curtly informed that he did not ‘need to know.’ And that had been that. Draco was finding
the lack of information to be the hardest thing to bear. All throughout his life he had been the
one in the know; the one with all the answers, and this uncertainty was eating away at his resolve
bit by bit. It occurred to him that the reason he had been so well informed in the past was because
of the influence of his father. Perhaps Snape was deliberately keeping him in the dark to teach him
a lesson. A lesson on what it was like for the majority of people who had neither wealth nor power.
Draco grinned ruefully. He wouldn’t put it past his former teacher to impart one final lesson to
his former student.

Glancing at his watch again he realised that the hour had finally come. Taking a deep breath to
steady his nerves, Draco stood and slowly made his way to the common room exit. He cast one last
glance around the room he had called home for six years. It occurred to him that he might never see
it again.

The strange thing was, the prospect of that didn’t seem very important anymore.

***********

The tension was building as the Hogwarts express neared its destination. The noise levels in
each of the compartments was noticeably lower than at the start of the journey as each person on
board contemplated what lay ahead. The sun was now quite low on the western horizon and more than a
few people were acutely aware that this might well be the last sunset any of them would ever
see.

Hermione glanced at Ron and saw that her friend was doing his best to conceal his nerves. The
two of them had spent most of the journey walking the corridors and offering words of encouragement
to their friends. They had popped in to see Rufus on a few occasions and had been amused at their
last visit to discover him in the guise of a second year Slytherin boy. Apparently the boy had been
one of the few options left to the Minister who had not had the wit to pick his disguise earlier.
James Walsh was similarly disguised but he had seen the funny side of the whole affair more readily
than his friend.

Her attention was diverted by a knocking on the compartment door. She glanced up and recognised
Rufus, despite his disguise. She smiled.

‘I don’t know whether to stand to attention or hex you for disturbing me, Minister. I don’t
think I will be able to look at you in the same light again.’

‘Very amusing,’ replied Rufus as he sat down next to her. ‘I have been hearing the same wise
cracks throughout the train; I had hoped for better from you at least, Miss Granger.’ He had tried
to sound severe, but the simple fact was that Hermione could only see a spotty twelve year old boy
in front of her. She finally gave up the pretence and laughed loudly. Despite himself, Rufus joined
in.

‘OK, now that you have got that out of your system, you should know that we will be arriving in
Hogsmeade station in about ten minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.’

The news sobered Hermione immediately. She nodded gravely.

‘Good,’ said Rufus. ‘Now remember, you and the rest of the real students will lead and I and the
impostors will be right behind you. Hopefully the fact that you are genuine will be enough to put
the enemy at ease. Once inside the castle, you will have to follow my lead.’ He glanced around to
make sure no one was eavesdropping. ‘We have only been able to plan the attack up to a point; a lot
depends on when Harry makes his move. The idea is that he will act once we are all in the Great
Hall. After that, it’s going to be a free for all, I think. But whatever happens, wait for my
signal. Understood?’

Hermione nodded again, amazed that she was able to stop herself from shaking. ‘I’ll make sure we
are all ready,’ she replied. ‘Good luck, Minister.’

‘Good luck to you too, Miss Granger,’ replied Rufus, getting to his feet. He gave her shoulder a
soft squeeze. ‘Just keep your head down. Be safe.’

Hermione watched him leave the compartment and resolved to remain strong, despite her fear. She
thought of Harry at that moment and took out the fake Galleon she would use to let them know when
they arrived, fingering it gently. She took strength from the fact that she would be seeing him
soon, whatever happened.

*Don’t worry, my love, I’ll be there soon.*

***********

Stephen Tweed was feeling nervous as he looked at his reflection in the mirror that hung in the
bathroom at the end of his carriage. He did not recognise himself, of course; at the moment the
face that stared back at him was that of a fourth year Ravenclaw boy. As well as being nervous,
Stephen was also excited at the prospect of what lay ahead. Having left Hogwarts just over three
years ago, he had been delighted to have discovered that he had been granted a place on the
Ministry four year Auror Training Program. It was something that he had wanted to do since he was a
small child and the joy he’d felt at achieving his goal was still fresh within him.

He had been surprised a few days ago, however, when his instructor had asked the class if they
felt they were up to going on a real, live mission. Normally this would have been out of the
question for trainees with a year of the course still to complete, but the instructor had said that
the Ministry needed every available person they could find – if they were willing to go.

Stephen had not needed to be asked twice. With a sense of excitement, he had signed up for the
mission, even though he’d had no idea what it was to be. It was no surprise to learn that every
single one of his classmates had done likewise.

After that all leave had been cancelled. No communications with the outside world was permitted
and not a word was spoken about what lay ahead until they had reached King’s Cross this morning.
Once there, the Minister himself had informed them what was going on. The news had been greeted
soberly. Despite this, however, not a single trainee had opted out when given the chance. It was
just not the done thing in such circumstances. It was with a large degree of pride that he had
donned an official Auror uniform – something he had been working to achieve for years.

Stephen finished drying his hands and – conscientiously as ever – began one final pre-mission
check. He went through the motions with a routine that he had learned whilst in training. Satisfied
that he had everything he needed, he left the bathroom and returned to his compartment, nodding to
his colleagues as he sat down. He was confident that he was as ready as it was possible to be.

There was one thing Stephen had forgotten to do, however. He had omitted to take his hourly dose
of the Polyjuice potion he had been handed when boarding the train.

*************

*a/n I wish I could claim this particular observation as my own, but it is actually a line from
the book ‘Going Postal’ by the great Terry Pratchett. If you have not read Pratchett before, I
suggest that you do as you are depriving yourselves of many hours of delightful reading.



14. Confrontations
------------------

**Chapter 14 - Confrontations**

Amycus Carrow stood on a hill overlooking Hogsmeade and watched as the students alighted from
the train and began the slow trek up towards the castle. He had placed himself under a
Disillusionment charm and was quite confident that his presence would go unnoticed. His master had
given him explicit instructions; he was to observe the arrival of the students and once satisfied
that things were going according to plan, he was to Apparate to the *other* group of Death
Eaters – the group who had been tasked with capturing the Ministry. Lucius Malfoy was leading that
group and the Dark Lord had been most insistent that the attacks happen simultaneously and had
stressed to Amycus and Lucius the importance of getting the timing just right. He had also hinted
darkly at the consequences of failure – something Amycus did not need reminding of.

So far things appeared to be going as planned. The line of students snaked towards the castle
gates without anyone seeming to suspect the trap. He had noticed that there were fewer students
than what he remembered from his own school days, but he discarded that as a minor detail. He
watched as the bushy haired girl at the head of the line led the students past the castle doors and
was finally satisfied that everything was going according to plan. After one last glance at the
school he Apparated with a loud *crack*.

Had he lingered a mere twelve seconds longer, Amycus would have seen all hell break loose.

***********

Hermione kept her head down as she led the snaking train of ‘students’ from the station to the
school. It took all of her self control to stop herself from shaking and she was acutely aware that
Ron, too, was struggling to maintain his composure. As she neared the castle gates, she thought she
saw one or two people lingering in the shadows; people she knew to be servants of Lord
Voldemort.

She had activated the fake Galleon almost immediately after stepping off the train in Hogsmeade
and as she had done so she had sent a silent prayer that Harry was still alive to receive the
message. The time for action was now here and she could only hope and trust that they would have
the resources to accomplish the mission.

She approached the steps that led to the great wooden doors that had guarded this castle for
more than a millennium. Glancing around, she was now certain that a large number of people were
watching her every move. She found it disconcerting to be the focus of so much unwanted attention,
but knew that the success of the mission depended on her acting as if nothing out of the ordinary
was happening.

Glancing briefly behind her, she noticed that the real students – the members of the DA who had
agreed to come with her – were still in touch and still with her. This elicited a smile; whatever
happened now, at least she would not be alone.

Taking one last deep breath, she crossed the threshold of the castle gates, not quite knowing
what to expect. Aware that she was now in the hands of the enemy she suppressed a shudder and
carried forward, her head held high. She stopped for a moment, turning to face those coming up
behind as if checking their progress; an action she had seen previous Head Girls perform over the
past six years. She counted heads as they past, but had only got up to fourteen when she noticed a
commotion further down the line.

‘HE’S NOT A STUDENT! IT’S A TRAP! AURORS! THE AURORS ARE HERE!’ came the sudden cry, and to her
horror, Hermione saw the first brilliant streaks of red and green light collide with the packed
mass that formed the queue waiting to gain entry into the castle.

*What had gone wrong?* she screamed inwardly. She reached for her wand and made to dash
back outside but suddenly she and her companions found themselves totally surrounded by a group of
at least twenty five Death Eaters, all of whom had their wands levelled at her and her
companions.

‘Don’t even think about it, Dearie.’

Hermione turned to the voice in bitterness. The all too familiar voice; the voice that had
tormented Harry in the Ministry and had cast the curse that had killed Sirius.

*Bella.*

‘All of you drop your wands,’ demanded Bella. No one moved for a moment. ‘I said drop your
wands!’ she screamed, and this time she fired a blasting curse over their heads; a curse that
jolted them all into action. Slowly – one by one – they dropped their wands. It was clear to all of
them that they were in a hopeless situation – resistance would have been futile.

‘Get those doors shut!’ ordered Bella to one of the Death Eaters near the doors.

‘But we still have people outside!’ one of them objected.

‘That doesn’t matter’! screeched Bella. We have what we need, you fools, and the Dark Lord will
not want Aurors within the castle. Now close the doors!’ she demanded.

Hermione’s heart sank in her chest as she watched two Death Eaters slowly swing shut the giant
wooden doors that guarded the entrance to the castle. The last thing she saw before the light was
blocked out was the sight of a huddled mass desperately trying to fend off attacks from all sides.
Finally the doors boomed shut and the two Death Eaters slid the great beam into place to bar them.
To Hermione, the noise made as it was rammed into place was like a death knell sounding for them
all.

***********

Rufus Scrimgeour glanced around as his Auror force neared the castle gates. *So far, so
good.* He watched as the first group of real students – led by Hermione and Ron – climbed the
low stairs and began to enter the castle. This was the moment he had waited years for; the moment
he finally had Lord Voldemort in his sights.

He chanced one last look around to be sure everyone was ready. It was difficult – nearly
impossible – for him to figure out who was who in the line as a result of the disguises. His eyes
scanned the multitude and just as he was about to turn away satisfied, he noticed something
amiss.

*No! Sweet Merlin, no. You foolish boy! You have doomed us all.* He watched appalled as one
of the ‘students’ about ten yards behind him slowly began to change form. At first, the young man
did not notice what was going on, but Stephen Tweed soon realised that something was amiss when he
noticed the appalled looks he was receiving from his colleagues. He held up his hands in front of
his face; his eyes widening in horror as he watched them change from those of a fourth year
Ravenclaw boy back into their original form. He knew, with a growing sense of despair, the rest of
him would be changing too. He stood frozen to the spot, still staring at his hands, and did not
even move when the Auror behind bumped into the back of him.

‘HE’S NOT A STUDENT! IT’S A TRAP! AURORS! THE AURORS ARE HERE!’

Stephen Tweed was the first to die that day; struck by a jet of green light that was fired from
the cover of the low wall that ran in front of the school. For the briefest of moments Rufus felt a
sudden surge of sorrow course through him as he watched the young man die. Sorrow for the young man
himself, and sorrow for all of those who were about to die. This feeling passed in a fraction of a
second, for his instincts kicked in immediately and he moved to take charge.

‘TAKE COVER!’ he shouted at the top of his voice, before diving down behind one of the statues
that littered the grounds. He glanced up as James thumped down beside him, his face twisted in
disgust at their having been discovered.

‘There isn’t enough cover, Rufus! We’re sitting ducks out here. We must fall back.’ He ducked
his head as a green streak blasted a fragment of stone just inches from his face. ‘We can’t sustain
this!’

Rufus knew this to be true. Surveying the scene before him he watched as a large group of his
Aurors who had not found cover were cut to pieces. They stood in a huddled mass, no protection in
sight and died in their droves as curse after curse struck home. They tried to fire back but it was
futile; the enemy were unseen and firing from cover. It was slaughter.

He did not know who they were, these dying men and women; but this made it no easier to bear. In
fact; the sight of what seemed to be children being slaughtered in front of his eyes almost made
him physically sick. That he knew these men and women to be Aurors did not make this any easier. He
glanced towards the castle doors and noticed without surprise that they had been swung shut. He had
to act.

‘FALL BACK!’ he shouted. ‘FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, FALL BACK! IF YOU HAVE NO COVER, RUN! RUN
DAMNIT! RUN!’

He watched as the group finally broke ranks and dashed for safety, one or two falling to curses
as the made their bid to escape. He closed his eyes and sank to the ground. They had lost over
twenty people in less than two minutes.

The firing lessened as the Aurors who had been exposed finally got clear and escaped to safety.
All that remained in the school grounds were about forty Aurors who had managed to find some cover.
Those not slain had managed to run out of the range of the enemy. After a few moments the firing
virtually petered out all together, but this did not mean the end of the torture. Instead, the
Death Eaters who had produced such a devastating field of fire began to taunt those remaining in
order to provoke them into a futile attack.

‘NOBODY MOVE!’ he shouted. ‘REMAIN IN COVER UNTIL YOU RECEIVE ORDERS!’ He turned to James,
seeking his opinion.

‘This is a lousy position, Rufus. It’s a killing ground out there. If we move from cover we will
be cut to pieces,’ said James, who had taken a few moments to size up the situation. For all his
experience, James knew that things looked hopeless. Damage limitation seemed to be the main
objective now.

Rufus nodded his agreement, his mind furiously working for a solution to their current
predicament. He was finding it nearly impossible though, as one thought was screaming at him from
inside his head.

He had let Harry down. He and his friends were on their own now.

***********

Harry took a deep breath as he prepared to leave the sanctuary of the Room of Requirement. He
had been alerted that the time to act had finally arrived by the burning sensation in his pocket
from the fake Galleon given to him by Hermione. He had quickly stood, gathered his things and
proceeded to the exit. Now he struggled to compose himself for what lay ahead.

Checking the Marauder’s Map, he noticed that the coast was clear. He slid the door open silently
and slipped through the gap into the seventh floor corridor. Glancing first left and then to his
right, he slowly began to make his way towards the Great Hall. It was then that he noticed
something odd on the map.

*Malfoy.*

Draco Malfoy was skulking in the bowels of the castle and Harry was intensely curious as to why
this should be so. He noticed that every other Death Eater was either in the Great Hall with their
master or standing near the front doors of the school. Why would Malfoy be hiding on his own?
Deciding he had enough time to find out, Harry cautiously made his way to where he knew the
Slytherin common room was situated.

Walking through the castle on the alert for enemies was a disconcerting experience for Harry.
Whilst not everything that had happened to him at this school had been easy, he had always felt
secure within the castle walls. Not now though. He knew that the majority of people now within
these halls were mortal enemies of his and he once again thanked his stars that he had possession
of this map. His task would have been made so much harder had he lacked such a priceless tool.

Finally arriving at the bottom of the school, Harry crept along the corridor. He could see from
the map that Malfoy was around the next corner. He paused for a moment, considering his options.
*How best to approach this*? he wondered.

Edging his way to the corner of the corridor, he glanced round and saw to his surprise that
Malfoy was standing with his head in his hands and was muttering to himself. Harry decided that now
was the perfect time to act.

‘Let’s have your wand where I can see it, ferret!’ said Harry, in a sudden, loud voice.

Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He actually leaped into the air about a foot before
turning to face the voice. The voice that he knew all too well; the voice he never thought to hear
again.

*‘Potter*?’ The incredulity was plain in Malfoy’s voice. He looked as if he had seen a
ghost; but then, Harry reflected with grim amusement; he *was* seeing a ghost. Harry Potter
was dead, after all.

‘Yes, it’s Potter. And I will not ask you again. Let’s have your wand where I can see it!’ Harry
pointed his own wand directly at Malfoy, his intentions clear. Wide eyed and evidently in a state
of shock, Draco slowly held his wand out before tossing it to the floor. Harry carefully bent down
and picked it up.

‘But I watched you die,’ said Draco, remembering his role in the attack on the Shrieking
Shack.

‘Not quite,’ replied Harry, with a twisted smile. ‘I guess I must be harder to kill than you
thought, Draco. Now, what should I do with you? You did betray the school after all. Dumbledore
died because of you.’ There was real menace in Harry’s voice as he said this and Draco Malfoy
sensed his murderous mood.

‘But Snape told me he was dying anyway!’ said Draco, desperation in his voice. ‘He told me that
the headmaster had asked him to kill him! I’m on your side now!’

This stopped Harry cold. How could Malfoy possibly known the truth unless Snape had told him?
What game was Snivellus playing now? He realised that he would have to be very careful here. He
tightened his grip on his wand.

‘When did he tell you that?’

‘A couple of weeks ago. He asked me to help him. I know he is working against the Dark
Lord.’

Harry was left reeling at this revelation and took a moment to frame a response.

‘What did he ask you to do?’

‘I can’t tell you. Snape said he would kill me if I told anyone.’ Draco particularly stressed
the last word, making it clear to Harry that he would not reveal the information, even to him.
Harry knew that he now had a decision to make. Malfoy had been high on his list of people that he
had sworn revenge upon and now he had him at his mercy. But then, Snape too had been on that list
and he still marvelled at how that had all played out. It was clear that Malfoy was telling the
truth; he could not possibly have known about Snape’s true allegiance unless their former Professor
had told him. So where did that leave them now?

‘In about two minutes, Malfoy, the Ministry is going to attack this school. We know that
Voldemort is here – we have known all along. You had better be telling the truth, for if you have
lied to me, Voldemort will be the least of your worries.’ Harry noticed with satisfaction that
Malfoy winced when hearing Voldemort’s name. He was about to continue when his train of thought was
disturbed by muffled sounds of confusion that could be heard above their heads.

‘What was that?’ asked Draco.

Harry didn’t know for sure, but had a good idea. With a feeling of dread rising in his throat,
he pulled out the map, praying that he was wrong. Glancing at the names near the front doors, he
saw with horror that almost the entire DA were surrounded by Death Eaters and were being led
towards the Great Hall. He noticed that the front doors had been shut and that there was no sign of
any Ministry personnel. They had been discovered.

‘Listen to me,’ began Harry, grabbing Malfoy by the collar. His voice was low, but nonetheless
it carried the authority of God Almighty at that moment. ‘Whatever it is you have to do, go and do
it now. Right now. Stop skulking in corners and be a man for once in your life, Draco.’ He released
his grip and handed back the wand to the astonished Malfoy, who fumbled with it for a moment. ‘If
Snape has asked you to do something then it will be important. And so help me, Draco, if you fail
us in this I will kill you myself. Now go!’ Harry knew he would not be able to kill Malfoy, but
right now that didn’t matter. Malfoy did not know this.

Harry watched as Malfoy scuttled off towards the Great Hall. He closed his eyes and steeled
himself to look at the map again. *Please God, may I be wrong.*

He looked down at the parchment and saw that his worst fears were confirmed. Tom Riddle stood by
the headmaster’s chair. Directly in front of him on the map were two names.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

With a curse Harry headed off in Malfoy’s wake, his heart hammering in his chest.

*I’m on my way, love. Hold tight.*

***********

Rufus Scrimgeour ducked as another stray curse struck the statue he was crouched behind and
dusted off the stone residue that had fallen on top of him. He was desperately searching for
inspiration; he knew that the fate of the entire magical world rested on the next few hours and any
decisions he made now would have serious repercussions for them all. He was acutely aware, however,
that a decision had to be made - even the wrong decision would be better than no decision right
now. If he did not come up with something then he would be forever cursed as the Minister who froze
when fate demanded he act.

He was completely at a loss at the moment though. Turning to his oldest friend, he saw the look
of despair in his eyes.

‘Any ideas, James?’

Surprisingly, James Walsh smiled. ‘Not at the moment, Rufus. I was hoping you would have come up
with something by now.’

Rufus smiled grimly in return. The two of them had been in many sticky situations over the
years, but he couldn’t think of any worse than where they found themselves now. Tentatively lifting
his head, he scanned the situation in front of him. They had to somehow get in behind their
assailants, but for the life of him, he could not work out how. Normally, he would have Apparated
to a position in the rear of his attackers, but the wards surrounding the Castle prevented him from
doing so.

And then it hit him. The answer was so obvious that he grimaced at his own stupidity.

‘Sukey!’ he yelled, surprising James.

In an instant, the little house elf appeared next to her master. Rufus immediately grabbed her
and pulled her down behind the statue, although it occurred to him that she was probably the
smallest target in the whole school at the moment.

‘Sukey,’ he began, urgently. ‘Do you have any friends amongst the Hogwarts house elves?’

Sukey nodded; her eyes like saucers as she took in what was going on all around her.

‘Good,’ continued Rufus. ‘Do you think you could go and fetch some of them please? I have a
little job for them.’

Sukey nodded once again before disappearing with a *crack.* A few moments later she
returned, accompanied by two of the Hogwarts House Elves.

‘Thank you, Sukey,’ said Rufus, gravely. ‘Might I have the pleasure of your names?’ he asked the
two elves.

‘My name is Dobby, sir. I is a free elf, but I works in the castle.’

Rufus nodded, recognising the name. Harry had spoken of this little elf before. *Good*. He
turned to the other, older elf.

‘My name is Kreacher, sir. I work at the school at the request of my master.’

‘And who is your master?’

‘Harry Potter, sir. That is why I am here; Sukey knows who my master is.’

*Perfect*, thought Rufus. Sukey could not have done any better.

Now, Dobby, Kreacher,’ began Rufus, ‘you are both aware that the Dark Lord has seized control of
the school?’

Both elves nodded.

‘What you may not be aware of is that Harry Potter is also in the school, along with his
friends.’ Four eyes widened at this statement. Rufus ploughed on. ‘I need to get into the school to
help Harry, but as you can see, the way is barred at the minute. Do you think you can help me? I
need someone to get in behind those who are attacking us and take care of them. Do you think you
can do that for me?’

‘Dobby will be proud to help Harry Potter, sir. Leave this to Dobby.’

Rufus turned to Kreacher, who remained silent for a long moment.

‘Kreacher’s master is in danger,’ he finally said. ‘It is the duty of a good house elf to help
his master when in need. Kreacher will do as asked,’ the old elf added, with surprising
dignity.

‘Thank you,’ said Rufus. ‘Thank you both. Just be careful. I want you to give us five minutes to
prepare and then I want you to act. We will take them from both sides at once. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ chorused the elves, before disappearing with a crack.

Rufus turned to James who was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

‘I guess that’s why they made you my boss. I would never have thought of that,’ he said to Rufus
with a rueful shake of his head.

***********

Hermione knew she was in deep trouble; in fact, they were all in deep trouble. Only fourteen
people had made it into the school before everything had started to go wrong and when she glanced
around she realised that none of the Auror force had made it.

They were being herded along the corridor towards the Great Hall like sheep; although it
occurred to her that ‘lambs to the slaughter’ might be a more apt description at the minute. They
were completely surrounded by Death Eaters and were now also unarmed. Bella had collected their
wands and had handed them to a young Death Eater she did not recognise. They were now in a canvas
sack, clutched tightly in the man’s right hand. She had initially considered fighting her way out
of the trap but she had quickly taken in the situation and had realised immediately that any
resistance would have been futile.

Bella was positively leering at them and it was taking all her self control not to reply to the
bitch as she was aware of the consequences of doing so. Bella was trying to elicit a reaction from
them and she was pleased to see that no one was rising to the bait. That was the least of their
worries at the minute though; she knew that they would soon be brought before Voldemort
himself.

*Harry, where are you?* she thought to herself. She tried to remain calm despite the fear;
remain calm so that she would be in a position to act when Harry made his move. He would have to
make his move soon, wouldn’t he? *If not, then they were all doomed*, she realised.

So it had all come down to Harry – once again. She had been right when she had described him as
their Trump card a few days ago. He was now the only card they had left to play. She noticed that
they now approached the great double doors that guarded the Great Hall and watched dispassionately
as they swung open to allow them entry. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and willed
herself to be strong, whatever happened. She chanced one last glance at Ron who – amazingly –
smiled at her. He reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, and in that simple gesture he
managed to convey everything their friendship meant to him. She surprised herself by smiling at him
in return before turning to face what lay ahead.

Even though she knew that he would be there, Hermione still found herself coming to a stop when
her eyes alighted on Lord Voldemort. Neville – who had been walking right behind her – actually
bumped into the back of her such was the suddenness of her halt. Already afraid, Hermione now felt
her legs turn to jelly as she looked upon the cruel visage of Tom Riddle. She felt like a rabbit in
the headlights; a mouse in a cat’s claws. There was no escape from this man, she realised, and the
length of her life could now be measured in minutes; not years.

Strangely, the acceptance of this fact gave her renewed strength. If it was to end here then she
would do it on her terms*. She would show these monsters how a Muggle born died!* Casting her
eyes imperiously around the Great Hall, she noticed a number of Death Eaters dotted around the room
and for the briefest of moments her eyes alighted on Snape, who stood near his master, his face
impassive, giving nothing away. She spotted McGonagall and the other teachers in the corner, each
of them white faced at the current predicament of their students. She felt a sudden rush of despair
as she noticed Nagini skulking near her master and it took all of her willpower not to look back at
Snape at that moment. *The snake was supposed to have been destroyed by now.* Finally, she
looked up at Lord Voldemort again and the defiance flashed in her eyes as she continued to walk
down the length of the Great Hall, her companions in her wake. The doors closed silently behind
them.

She noticed Lord Voldemort smile as they approached him and he remained smiling when they were
finally ordered to halt before him. It was not a smile of joy, or even of mirth, she decided.
Rather it was with a cruel leer of satisfaction that the Dark Lord cast his lidless eyes over those
who had dared to defy him. He sat on the Headmaster’s chair like an Emperor of old; his robes
draped across his arm regally, his fingers drumming the arm of the chair. He was master of all he
surveyed and he knew this was so. He took a long moment to regard each of them in turn; his gaze
penetrating deep, almost as if he was reading their very souls. He maintained eye contact with each
in turn until her companions could stand it no more and lowered their heads to avoid his gaze.
Finally he turned to Hermione.

She was determined not to break. She held her head high and her gaze was steady as she looked
directly back into the eyes of the devil that sat before her. She had to fight to control the
twitching in her leg; to contain the bile that rose in her throat and it took all of her willpower
not to break eye contact. In that moment, despite the terror she felt, Hermione Granger epitomised
the spirit of everyone who had dared to defy the Dark Lord. It was a silent battle of wills that
was being played out and after another few moments it was – amazingly – Lord Voldemort who broke
eye contact.

He laughed. A humourless, twisted sound that sent shivers down Hermione’s spine.

‘So,’ he began, addressing all of them, ‘finally I have Potter’s companions before me. I have
waited patiently for this moment and my patience has been rewarded. Did you really think you could
surprise Lord Voldemort? This castle is now sealed to all but those I deem worthy. My enemies
outside are doomed to defeat. I control this castle now.’ He paused for a moment before continuing.
‘You may die today when I am through with you; and yet, not all need die. Lord Voldemort can be
merciful to those who show repentance. However, some of you most certainly will die here today.’ He
had turned his gaze on Hermione and Ron as he said this and both were left in no doubt as to whom
he was referring to.

Hermione licked her lips, saying nothing for the moment. Every precious second counted right now
and she thought it best to let him talk.

‘You two have defied me long enough,’ continued the Dark Lord. ‘You - along with Potter – have
caused me great inconvenience. I do not tolerate such disobedience. Your deaths shall make me
stronger than ever.’

‘What? Are you planning on making some more Horcruxes then, *Tom*?’ asked Ron with
contempt. ‘You’ll have a bit of work to do to replace the five we destroyed. There can’t be much
left of your soul to split.’

Lord Voldemort was enraged by these words. He lifted his wand but was distracted by the sudden
whispering from his followers in the room. *Of course*, thought Hermione*, his Death Eaters
would not have known about the Horcruxes*. Perhaps she could use this.

‘You mean none of you knew?’ she asked the room at large. ‘You didn’t know your master was a
coward?’ She turned back to Voldemort ‘You fear death, don’t you, *Tom*?’ her voice dripped
with scorn as she uttered his name.

It was the final straw for Lord Voldemort. With a roar of rage, he stood and raised his wand.
*‘Crucio!*’ he screamed and shot the curse directly at her.

Hermione had never experienced pain like it. Every nerve in her body screamed at her as the
agony coursed through her system. She tried not to give him the satisfaction of crying out but her
resistance lasted only seconds as she let out the screams that testified to her agony. Beside her,
Ron looked on in horror at his friend as she clawed at the floor in torment.

‘No!’ he shouted. ‘No, you bastard! Can’t take the truth, Tom? You are a bloody coward, picking
on a schoolgirl. Makes you feel big, does it?’

Voldemort immediately turned his attention to Ron and shifted his curse on to him. Soon he too
was experiencing the same agony. Hermione struggled onto her knees as she watched Ron writhe on the
ground. Her limbs were trembling and her vision was blurred.

‘No!’ she managed to croak. ‘Stop! Please stop! What is it you want from us?’

Voldemort eventually did stop at these words. He regarded Hermione for a long moment before
sitting down in the headmaster’s chair again. He smoothed his robes before speaking, regaining his
composure. ‘What do I want from you?’ he finally said. ‘I want your deaths, mudblood. But before
you die, I want to know everything you can tell me of my Horcruxes. You have a choice, both of you.
Tell me what I want to know and I will make your deaths quick. Disappoint me and you will feel my
wrath once again.’

Hermione nodded, panting as she struggled to her feet. She knew that she had to buy time; that
most precious of commodities. Her life was forfeit now – she knew that – but she would not sell it
cheaply. She would give Harry and the others every chance before she died.

‘What is it you want to know?’ She kept her head down as she asked this, her eyes averted. She
saw Ron start to rise in order to challenge Voldemort once again and she placed her hand on his
shoulder to stop him. Looking into his eyes she tried to convey the message that he must calm down;
he must become subservient. It was their only chance. Ron gazed back and seemed to understand her
unspoken plea. He nodded to her before getting to his feet and facing Voldemort once more; but this
time he too adopted a more deferential pose.

Voldemort watched the scene with a degree of satisfaction. He knew that he had broken these two
and that they would now co-operate. He glanced around at his servants who were whispering to
themselves. He grimaced. He had not wanted the existence of his Horcruxes to become public
knowledge, but it was too late now. He briefly considered killing all those he could not trust with
the information, but realised with dark amusement that he would be left with only three followers
if he went down that road. He considered his next question.

‘Who else helped you to destroy my Horcruxes?’ he asked.

Hermione knew she had to be extremely careful here. This man was the greatest Legilimens the
world had ever seen and she did not have the Occlumency skills to lie to him. She would have to
speak the truth to him; or at least a version of the truth. It all depended on what she was asked,
and with this first question, he had given her a gift.

‘No one else. Dumbledore started the process and Harry continued after the headmaster died. He
told us everything in case anything happened to him, but no one else has been involved in their
destruction.’ This was all true, she reasoned. No one else had helped them to *destroy* the
Horcruxes. *Find them? Yes. But not destroy them.*

Voldemort sensed the truth of her words and seemed satisfied. ‘How did Dumbledore discover my
secret?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know for sure, but I think he first became suspicious when we discovered your diary
five years ago. I believe Dumbledore wondered at the hold the spirit in the diary managed to gain
over Ginny Weasley. I’m not certain, but I think that’s what put him onto you.’

Voldemort nodded almost absent-mindedly, as if he was discussing the weather with the girl
before him. *I knew it would be the diary! Lucius would pay for this mistake, he would see to
that*. The destruction of his Horcruxes had crippled him, but not destroyed him. He still had
one left and soon he would supplement that one with some more. The deaths of the two fools in front
of him would now be symbolic; he would show those in the know what happened to anyone who tried to
challenge him. He sighed. There really wasn’t anything else he needed to know. His secret was no
longer secure. His servants now knew of the steps he had taken to avoid death, but there was
nothing he could do about that now.

Hermione sensed the change in mood in the man sitting before her. She knew that her time was
finally up and decided that she would not give this man the satisfaction of showing fear. She
waited for him to continue, her heart thumping in her chest as if understanding her predicament and
desperate to escape.

Voldemort slowly rose from his chair and regarded Ron and Hermione one last time. He saw them
stand straight of back, heads lifted in defiance. *He would soon change that. The mudblood first,
I think.*

*‘Crucio!’* he said as he casually flicked his wand at Hermione. In an instant, she was
screaming on the ground once again, silently praying for her ordeal to be over. Her only regret was
that she never got to see Harry before she died, and the thought of him brought tears to her
eyes.

‘Fool!’said Lord Voldemort, with contempt. He lowered his wand, desiring now to inflict torture
of a different sort. ‘How could you ever think that you could possibly defeat me? One who has
explored magic beyond the realms of your imagination? Did you think that love would be enough to
save you, girl?’ He swept his arm around the room. ‘Where is your champion? Who will stand up for
you in your final hour?’ He was leering as he tormented her, his voice mocking as he approached
her. ‘Who will be you white knight, mudblood?’ he hissed, bending over her so that his face was
just inches from hers as she struggled onto her knees.

Before Hermione could respond, the attention of everyone was suddenly diverted as the great
doors swung open with a crash that echoed throughout the room.

‘I guess that would be me,’ said Harry as he strode into the hall, his eyes blazing in fury.



15. The Snake...
----------------

**Chapter 15 – The Snake…**

Lucius Malfoy held up his hand for silence as he led his group into the Ministry Atrium. He was
being followed by twenty five of the Dark Lord’s servants – not many, but sufficient for the
purposes of this mission. The Dark Lord had informed him that the Ministry would not be well
guarded today – apparently he had received assurances that the majority of Aurors would be used to
cover Hogwarts. It did not make sense to Lucius for Scrimgeour to leave the Ministry so exposed,
but he had learned many years before not to question his master – If Lord Voldemort said that the
Ministry would not be guarded, then who was he to question his wisdom? Besides; the Dark Lord did
not tolerate such doubts from his followers.

Lord Voldemort had instructed him to strike straight for the heart of the Ministry by going
directly for the Minister himself. Lucius knew exactly where that particular office was; he had
visited often enough when Fudge had held the role. He knew that this was why he had been selected
to lead this mission. He also knew that this was his final chance.

Lucius was somewhat disconcerted at the moment, however. The Ministry seemed to be eerily quiet
– too quiet for his liking. The lights were dimmed and not even the usual security guard had been
present at the front desk. They had been able to approach without hindrance and this had come as
surprise to them all. These facts had immediately put him on edge. *Why would the guard not be
there? Did they know of the attack?*

*Impossible.*

He edged forward, still on edge. It occurred to Lucius once again that he was on his last chance
with the Dark Lord; a fact that made him determined to succeed. Even though there was something
about this mission that did not seem quite right, he knew he could not abandon the attack. He could
almost imagine the conversation with his master were he to retreat.

*So why did you not attack Lucius?*

*Well, Master, I thought the Ministry seemed too quiet…*

The argument seemed absurd; even to him; and he knew what consequences would await him were he
to try such an approach.

He had wanted Draco to accompany him on the mission to make this a triumph for the family, but
the boy had flatly refused. He was severely disappointed in his son at the minute and believed that
he did not have the stomach to be a true supporter of the Dark Lord. His wife had informed him that
Draco was having second thoughts about being a Death Eater. The young fool; did he not realise that
one did not leave the Dark Lord’s service? After being informed of this, Lucius had wanted to
insist on Draco’s inclusion in his force, but it seemed that Snape had wanted his son at Hogwarts
and that had been it; decision made. Snape was building his own power base at the moment, and
Lucius was not able to challenge his authority. It astonished him sometimes how things changed so
quickly; two years ago Snape would never dared to challenge a Malfoy. That would change though;
after the victory tonight, a lot of things would change.

He shook his head at the distractions. *Concentrate, Lucius; you must not fail in this*.
His eyes scanned the Atrium seeking potential enemies, but he found none. He turned to his
supporters.

‘Move forward,’ he hissed. ‘Be as quiet as you can and head straight for the stairs,’ he added,
before leading them across the hall.

He had not gotten ten yards when he was suddenly blinded by the most brilliant lights that now
shone on them from all directions. He froze on the spot, his arm raised to shield his eyes.

‘Nobody move!’ came a voice. ‘You are completely surrounded! Any attempt to escape and I will
order my men to shoot to kill!’

Lucius’ heart sank. *They had known of the attack*. *How in Merlin’s name had they
known?* Not that it mattered now, he realised. Glancing around, he knew that to try and fight
his way out of this was pointless; he could not even see who threatened him. He and his men were
standing in open ground, lit up like Christmas trees and surrounded by an unknown number of
enemies.

He turned as one of the younger Death Eaters tried to make a run for it, firing off a curse into
the light as he did so. The fool hadn’t even got three paces before being cut down by a jet of
green light. Lucius had not even seen where it had come from. It did confirm something though;
resistance would be suicide.

‘Drop your wands!’ The same voice again. Lucius did not recognise it, but that wasn’t important
now. Nothing seemed to matter now. He looked up, squinting into the light as the voice
continued.

‘Drop them right now, or we will open fire!’

Knowing they were defeated, the Death Eaters slowly let their wands fall to the ground. The last
person to do so was Lucius himself. Within a few moments they were being manhandled by Ministry
Aurors; forced onto the floor and bound. Lucius cursed the over-confidence of his master as his
hands were tied behind his back and his face forced onto the tiled floor.

*Draco had evidently been right after all,* he thought despairingly.

************

Harry strode slowly down the length of the Great Hall, aware of the stunned reaction of
practically every person in the room. His cloak was draped loosely around him, his wand held tight
in his right hand. The Sword of Gryffindor beat the rhythm of his steps as it hung in its scabbard
on his left hip, concealed by his cloak. The only sound that could be heard was his footsteps as he
neared the headmaster’s chair. His heart beat furiously in his chest as the distance closed and he
was acutely aware that he had no idea what to do at the minute.

He had been standing right outside the hall trying to formulate a plan when he had heard Lord
Voldemort as he had tortured and tormented Hermione. All thoughts of trying to come up with a
stratagem had evaporated at that point; he could not stand idly by whilst the woman he loved was so
callously put to death. He had made the instant decision to burst into the hall – he knew that his
appearance would at the very least postpone the execution that was about to take place. He hadn’t
given any thought as to what he would do next though.

And now he had no idea what to do; the situation was hopeless. Apart from the Dark Lord himself,
there were at least twenty Death Eaters in the hall. His own friends had clearly been disarmed
which meant that the only armed ally in the room right now was Snape. He could not expect much help
from that quarter at the moment. He realised that he was now relying entirely on what he had
described to the DA members back in fifth year as his instinct, or – as Professor McGonagall had so
adroitly put it all those years ago – sheer dumb luck. He was also struggling to control the rage
that he was feeling, aware that he had to keep a tight rein on his emotions. His temper had gotten
him into trouble in the past; he needed to keep his thoughts as clear as crystal at the moment. It
was no consolation to realise that his rage was now being assuaged by the sheer terror he was
experiencing as he neared his enemy.

The main reaction, he noticed, was – predictably – astonishment. He watched as Voldemort stood
to his full height and turned to Snape, an expression of incredulity on his face. Snape – to his
eternal credit, Harry realised – looked back at the Dark Lord with an equal expression of
amazement. *He’s good*, thought Harry dispassionately. *He’s really good to have reacted so
quickly.* It occurred to him that he did not know what Snape would do if Voldemort was to
triumph today. Would he act as if the meetings of the previous month had not happened? Would he
remain Lord Voldemort’s most trusted advisor?

His eyes briefly swept the hall and he noticed the general looks of astonishment that he
received from the room at large, particularly the smiles that broke onto the faces of his friends.
In the corner, he could see the four Professors; only Minerva did not stand open mouthed at his
appearance. He even caught sight of Draco Malfoy as he slipped into the hall by means of the staff
entrance behind the top table. The former Slytherin proceeded to stand with his fellow Death Eaters
and act as if nothing untoward was happening. Lord Voldemort did not see any of this. Harry then
noticed with a start that Nagini slithered close to her master. It took all of his self control not
to look at Snape at that moment whilst his mind raced with unanswered questions.

Even though his peripheral vision had taken in all of these details, his eyes at that moment
were focussed on the brown haired girl who lay at the feet of Lord Voldemort. To those watching his
approach it seemed as if there was no one else present in the hall.

He finally reached her and – without casting a glance at the snake like visage of the man in
front of him - held out his hand to help her rise.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked gently. He tried to stop his hand from shaking as he held it out to her.
*She had been so close to dying,* he thought with a shiver*. Even now, they were all in
mortal peril. And it’s your fault, Harry! You have brought everyone to this!*

‘I am now,’ she replied as she allowed him to help her to her feet. She stared at him intently
as if reading his thoughts and for a brief moment it was as if there was no one else present.
Finally, Harry embraced her briefly before turning to face Lord Voldemort.

By this point, the Dark Lord had recovered his composure. His initial feeling of astonishment at
Harry’s entrance had been replaced by fear; fear that this boy had returned to slay him; fear that
Harry Potter was his own personal nemesis, sent by fate to wreck his dreams. For one fleeting
moment as he watched Potter approach and help the mudblood to her feet, Lord Voldemort considered
the possibility that he could die today; killed by the boy who had seemingly haunted him since his
birth seventeen years before, and the boy who was evidently responsible for the destruction of five
parts of his seven part soul. He had even considered for the briefest of moments that he had been
betrayed by his most loyal servant who had planned the death of this boy, but one glance at the
look of astonishment on the face of Severus had been enough to dispel that doubt.

Then he realised the reality of the situation and began to feel more at ease. It was only five
parts of his soul that were gone, not seven; two were left and one of them resided within his own
form. And when he looked at Potter now, he realised that the young fool was alone, and was now
surrounded by Death Eaters who had finally overcome their amazement and who now had him completely
surrounded and covered by drawn wands. Glancing to the rear of the hall he saw with satisfaction
that the doors were already being swung shut by two of his servants. Armed or not, Potter would not
escape now. He was, after all, just a boy.

He started to relax. *Was he not the greatest wizard alive today*? The fear that he had
tasted in his mouth on first seeing Potter enter the hall now abated. The young fool had even
allowed his wand to be taken by Draco, as if he was accepting his fate. He composed himself and
retired to the headmaster’s chair. Sitting down, he rested his chin in the fingers of his left hand
and regarded Potter carefully. Finally he laughed. Laughed at the absurdity of the situation;
laughed at his own irrational fear. The situation was well under his control.

‘Well, well, well,’ began the Dark Lord, clearly amused. ‘This is indeed a most unexpected
surprise, *Harry*.’ He allowed his tongue to linger on the name as he said it, almost as if it
was a delicious treat that he was savouring. ‘Allow me to congratulate you; you have allowed me to
enjoy the sensation of being surprised for the first time in many a year. I cannot remember the
last time I was caught out in the manner that I have been today. Perhaps we should celebrate your
return from the dead? Should I call for a feast?’

Harry licked his lips. He knew that he had nothing to bargain with here; no hope of escape to
cling to. He had rushed in to the situation without thinking things through. He had let what Snape
called his ‘sentiment’ cloud his judgement and now he must deal with the consequences of doing so.
He was aware of one thing though; he had to keep Voldemort talking. He knew that if Riddle became
bored, he would end this charade in an instant.

‘Surprised? I am gratified to hear it,’ he replied. ‘Although I don’t think that it should be
too difficult to recall the last time you were caught out. I suspect that my escape the night you
returned must have taken you aback somewhat. Or even the night you murdered my parents. That must
have been quite the shock for you, *Tom*, being disembodied in that manner.’

‘Do not dare to address me with that filthy name!’ hissed Lord Voldemort. For a brief instant,
the veneer of calm disappeared from Voldemort’s face and a flash of rage was noticeable on his
drawn features. He forced himself to relax.

‘Why not?’ asked Harry. ‘It is your given name, is it not? Why be ashamed of a name?’

‘It is not the name I choose to give myself. That should be sufficient reason.’

‘But it is the name I choose to call you by, Tom. Surely after everything we have been through
together, I have earned the right to call you by your true name?’

Voldemort, to everyone’s surprise, smiled at this remark. ‘There may be something in what you
say, *Harry*, we have shared much over the years. But what you must understand is that you
only remain alive at the moment because I require some information from you. I could crush you like
an ant right now; you know this to be true. It may be prudent of you to respect my wishes in this
matter.’

‘If I am to die anyway, Tom, then what does it matter how I address you?’

Voldemort smiled grimly. Harry did not like this particular smile. ‘I shall give you the same
choice that I offered to the mudblood and the traitor,’ said Voldemort, gesturing at Ron and
Hermione. ‘Answer my questions truthfully and I shall make your death quick. Fail to satisfy me and
I shall make your death slow and painful. Your mudblood will share the same fate. The decision is
yours, Harry. Do you understand?’

After a few seconds, Harry nodded. ‘I understand. I will tell you anything you want if you
release my friends. It is I whom you want, Tom. You have me now; let them go.’

Lord Voldemort laughed again. ‘And why should I release them, Harry? I have everything I want
right before me at the moment. You have no say in this, Potter,’ he spat. ‘You cannot dictate terms
to me; you have nothing that I want, save your death. Now, I ask you again; will you answer my
questions?’ He raised his wand as he asked this; raised it and pointed it directly at Hermione.

‘Yes!’ shouted Harry, the fear evident in his voice. At all costs, he must keep attention away
from Hermione. ‘Yes, I will answer your questions. What do you want to know?’ He knew that he had
no option at the moment. No options at all.

Lord Voldemort took a long moment to consider Harry. He let the silence draw out and Harry found
himself almost desperate to know what the man wanted of him.

‘Why?’ Lord Voldemort finally asked.

‘Why what?’ replied Harry, obviously confused.

‘Why have you persisted in coming after me, Potter? Why are you here now? It is the one thing I
have never understood about you. After your fortunate escape sixteen years ago, I would have
thought that you would have done everything in your power to escape me. Once you discovered the
truth, you could have went anywhere; done anything. And yet, you did not flee. Instead, you
persisted – indeed you still persist - in trying to destroy me. Why?’

Harry laughed bitterly. ‘I persisted in pursuing *you*? Are you mad, *Tom*? Do you
think I enjoy this? That I sought to have my life overshadowed by the constant threat of murder? Do
you honestly think I wanted my loved ones killed or my friends put in danger? Why should I have run
away? I just wanted to be left alone; it was you who did not permit me to do this. You seem to have
this the wrong way around, Tom. You came after me. It was you who sealed our fates sixteen years
ago, not I.’

‘Ah, now we are getting somewhere, Harry. You speak of fate and yet you have me at an advantage;
at least in this. It seems that we are bound by fate. You know of what I speak. You are aware of
the full prophecy, are you not?’

‘I am,’ replied Harry. ‘I have been aware of it for over a year now. Ever since the night we met
at the Ministry.’

‘I suspected as much. Dumbledore told you of it, didn’t he?’ Voldemort did not wait for a reply.
‘Tell it to me then. Tell me it in full. Lord Voldemort commands you in this.’

Harry took a moment to consider his options. Would it matter now if Voldemort knew the full
prophecy? *Probably not*, he decided. It had all come down to this moment; what did it matter
if he knew now?

‘You heard some of it, didn’t you?’ he asked, temporising. ‘That’s why you came after me. Tell
me, why did you decide to go after me? I was not the only one the prophecy could have been speaking
of. It was not necessarily I that was fated to be marked. *You* chose me, Tom, not fate.’ He
deliberately did not mention Neville’s name when he asked this; his friend did not need to know how
close he came to death all those years ago. He noticed Voldemort’s eyes flicker in Neville’s
direction before he answered, and he hoped retribution was not in the immediate offing. If he
failed here today, Neville would die with the others, he was sure of that.

‘It is true that I only heard the first part,’ replied Lord Voldemort, with a sigh. ‘I had
actually decided to remove both threats. It was just coincidence that I chose to go for you first.
I see now that this choice was significant; and that the missing part of the prophecy will explain
why this is so. Despite my best efforts, I could never discover the missing part. I order you now
to tell me.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘*The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,’*
he began, reciting the words that had cursed his life*. ‘Born to those who have thrice defied
him, born as the seventh month dies .And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have
power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live
while the other survives.’* He looked directly at Voldemort as he said this; as he finally
revealed the secret that had damned him to this fate and had ultimately cost the lives of his
parents and Godfather. *And probably his own*, he now realised.

Voldemort closed his eyes on hearing these words as if deeply considering them. Finally he
laughed; a mirthless, bitter laugh that Harry found hugely unsettling.

‘That’s it?’ he finally asked, incredulously. ‘I have “marked you as my equal?” How, pray, did I
do this?’

Harry pointed to his scar. The Dark Lord laughed again. ‘And this makes you my equal?’

‘No, I guess not. But it was you that made the choice, Tom. We are equal in some respects; we
are both half-bloods. Was it really a coincidence that made you go for me first? Or did you see the
boy that had similar origins to your own as the greater threat? It is our choices that define us,
Tom. Well, you defined life for the two of us with that choice.’

This silenced Voldemort for a moment. Finally he spoke. ‘So tell me, Harry, what power is it
that you have then? What power that I “know not”?’ he scoffed. His Death Eaters laughed too as
their master mocked ‘the Boy-Who-Lived.’

Harry just shrugged. ‘No idea,’ he replied. ‘I never said I understood the prophecy; just that I
knew what it said.’ He considered whether to say any more. ‘Dumbledore thought it was my power to
love that would destroy you.’

‘Love?’ Voldemort asked scornfully. ‘You will use love to conquer me? Much as the thought might
appeal to some people, Harry, I am afraid that it carries no meaning to me.’ Voldemort was enjoying
himself; the mirth was evident in his tone. He laughed again. ‘So I have spent all these years
wondering about *this*? This excuse for a prophecy?’ he asked. ‘Wondering about a prophecy
that makes no sense? *Neither can live while the other survives*? This is patently nonsense.
Here we stand, Harry, you and I; both quite clearly living. For the moment at least,’ he added
ominously. ‘How do you explain this, Harry?’

‘I wondered about that myself when I first heard the words. It initially made no sense to me
either, but I realised not too long ago what it meant.’

‘And?’ asked Lord Voldemort. ‘Do tell, Harry. I am eager to hear your views on this,’ he
mocked.

‘Neither of us have lived; really lived. For sixteen years, neither of us has truly lived.’
Harry spoke quietly now as he considered the meaning behind the words that had blighted his life.
‘My life has been cursed; cursed by you, Tom. I have not been able to lead a normal life. To really
live, one must be free to choose ones own path. I have not had that choice; you made sure of that
when you killed my parents and marked me that night. All I have done is to survive. And as for
you?’ Harry continued. ‘You have not lived either since that night; unless you count drinking
unicorn blood in the forest as a satisfactory life. Unless you consider existing on the back of a
weakling’s head as an acceptable way to live. You were a shadow, Tom; barely alive. What kind of
life is that? You survived, but you did not live. Even after you regained your form two years ago,
your life has been constrained by fear. In fact, your whole existence has been overshadowed by your
fear of death – and your fear of me. You have never accepted that all men must die, and this has
prevented you from living your life; it has stopped you from truly being alive, all these
years.’

This stopped Voldemort in his tracks. He looked as if Harry had slapped him such was the impact
of these words. His lidless eyes narrowed for a moment, before he regained control.

‘Fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have conquered death; you know this to be true. You may have destroyed
five of my Horcruxes, Potter,’ he spat, ‘but I have two parts of my soul remaining. And I will add
that I will make your death especially beneficial to me. I shall create more Horcruxes; the deaths
of you and your pathetic little friends will not be in vain. I cannot lose,’ he asserted
triumphantly.

‘Life is not a game, Tom, to win or lose,’ said Harry. ‘You have never understood that, have
you?’

‘Oh, but it is, Potter. It is you that has never grasped this simple truth. It is the greatest
game of all.’

‘In that case,’ replied Harry, shaking his head, ‘you have never understood the rules, have
you?’

This perplexed Voldemort, who looked curious for a moment. ‘Rules? What rules?’ he asked. ‘There
are no rules.’

‘That life is a game none of us can win, Tom. None of us,’ he repeated. ‘You have never
understood or accepted that we all must lose in the end. This is the gift of life; the key to the
whole “game” as you call it. We can only fully appreciate being alive because we live with the
knowledge that one day we will die. Once you accept this truth, you come to realise that what is
important is how to play the game when we are given our chance. When the end comes – as come it
must, sooner or later – what ultimately matters is how we have played. If I am to die here today,
Tom, then I die in the knowledge that I have played the game well. Can you say the same?’

Voldemort laughed, and this time there was genuine amusement in it. ‘Oh, Potter; you really are
a sentimental young fool. Did Dumbledore teach you this nonsense?’ He laughed again. ‘You have not
been listening to me, Potter. I have conquered death. I cannot die. I *will not* die. I have
changed the rules.’

Harry said nothing in reply. There really was nothing to say at the moment for it did indeed
look as if Voldemort was correct. Riddle seemed to sense his resignation, for he abruptly changed
tack.

‘For a month now, I have thought you dead, Potter; and yet here you stand before me. It explains
much. I take it you were present at the graveyard?’

‘I was,’ replied Harry. ‘I was hidden under my invisibility cloak and managed to Apparate us to
safety.’

‘I should have known,’ replied Voldemort. ‘I was convinced that I had the mudblood and the
traitor under my control. There are not many who can resist the will of Lord Voldemort and I
suspect these two do not have it in them. Not like you though, Harry. You have resisted me before.
But no longer; not after today. Now tell me; how did you escape the Shack?’

Harry didn’t mind answering this question. ‘The Minister pulled me out before the Shack blew up.
It was his idea to fake my death. I told him that I needed to do something without interference
from you.’

‘So Scrimgeour *was* at the meeting?’ He turned to Snape. ‘My apologies, Severus; it would
appear that your information was indeed correct. The fault for their escape does not lie with you.
Fear me not.’

‘Thank you, master,’ replied Snape, the first words anyone had heard him speak today.

Voldemort turned back to Harry. ‘You told Scrimgeour of my Horcruxes?’

‘Not straight away, but he knows now. Does that matter anymore?’ asked Harry, gesturing to the
room at large. ‘Everyone here now knows of your little secret, Tom. Those that do not know what a
Horcrux is will find out soon enough. If I have achieved nothing else, then at least I have
revealed your secret to the world.’

‘That is of no consequence now,’ replied Voldemort. ‘As I said; I shall create some more and put
them beyond the reach of any witch or wizard. There are ways of achieving this. You know this to be
true.’

‘Maybe,’ replied Harry. ‘Maybe not. You will know that there will always be those who will seek
to destroy you. Do you think the Minister will give up now that he knows?’

Voldemort laughed. ‘What the Minister does or does not do is of no consequence now. Even as we
speak he is outside the front of this castle fighting for his life. You are forgetting that I
control this castle now. No one shall enter unless I permit it. Once I have finished with you,
Potter, I will see to the Minister, be assured of that. Did you honestly think that your little
plan to ambush me would work?’

‘It nearly did work,’ said Hermione, who until this point had remained silent by Harry’s side.
‘You were lucky today; we only need to be lucky once.’

Voldemort deigned to regard her for a moment. ‘Luck has nothing to do with it, mudblood. I would
have taken care of Rufus and his little force, even if he had gained entry to the castle. As it is,
I will deal with him shortly. Soon all resistance to me will be crushed completely. I have already
taken steps to take the Ministry. Do you think that I would merely be content with capturing the
school?’

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh. ‘Do you think we don’t know about the attack on the Ministry,
*Tom*? That we were not aware that Umbrage was spying for you? Measures have been taken; I am
quite confident that the little force you sent to take the Ministry has been dealt with by now,’ he
added scornfully.

Voldemort looked furious. ‘So,’ he hissed. ‘Now we get to the crux of the matter, Potter. *How
did you know?* How did you come to discover my plans? You knew I had taken Hogwarts and you knew
about the attack on the Ministry. So I ask you now, Harry Potter; who amongst my followers has
betrayed me?’

Harry said nothing. Voldemort sighed deeply. ‘Very well, Potter, have it your way.
*Crucio*!’

Harry immediately found himself on the floor writhing in agony. He was vaguely aware of Hermione
screaming at his side as she attempted to help him. He wanted her to stay out of the way but he
could not ward her off, such was his torment. The pain continued for what seemed like an eternity
before Voldemort ceased in his torture.

‘That is but a taste, Potter; the merest sip of what lies in store for you and your friends if
you do not co-operate. Now; I ask you again. Who has betrayed me?’

Harry struggled to his knees, fighting for breath. He could not reveal the information – he
could not even think the name in the presence of Lord Voldemort - for if he did then Severus Snape
was a dead man. Indeed, it was taking all of Harry’s willpower at that moment to avoid looking at
his former Potions Professor. Instead, he glanced off to the side and that was when he noticed
something odd.

Draco was looking at him intently, trying to tell him something with his eyes. It was then that
Harry noticed Nagini slithering along the floor behind Lord Voldemort; slithering slowly and
inexorably towards his former enemy. In an instant, Harry realised what Snape had asked Draco to
do. He had to keep Voldemort distracted.

Gasping for breath, he held up his hand as if in a plea for mercy. ‘Please,’ he whispered
hoarsely, ‘no more. I beg you, no more.’ He put his hand on the hilt of Gryffindor’s sword and used
it to lever himself to his feet. Voldemort noticed the sword for the first time.

‘What is that?’ he hissed. ‘Can this be the sword of Godric Gryffindor?’ There was a hint of awe
in the Dark Lord’s voice as he asked this. ‘You have done me a great service, Potter,’ he added
triumphantly. ‘You destroyed the locket of the mighty Slytherin; the locket that held a part of me.
This trophy shall serve as recompense. A relic of the founders to replace the one you destroyed! I
shall use it, Potter; use it and your death to replace that which you have taken from me.’ He was
exultant now; his victory complete.

Harry managed to get to his feet, although he remained doubled over, his hand stretched out as
if to stop any more torture. ‘Please,’ he gasped. ‘No more. I will do anything you ask.’

Voldemort regarded him with contempt. ‘Really, Potter, I’m disappointed in you. The mudblood
showed more spine than you have demonstrated. I shall have that sword, but first I command you; who
is the traitor?’

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Nagini finally got within range of Draco. On
seeing this he finally stood upright*. Now, Draco! Now is your time!*

As if in answer to the unspoken order, Draco Malfoy moved swiftly. Seeing that all attention in
the room was focused on Potter, he leveled his wand at the snake that slithered before him.

‘*SECTUMSEMPRA!*’ he cried, scything his wand in one swift movement; a scythe resulting in
a streak of red light that slashed into Nagini as she passed in front of him. The snake reared up,
hissing furiously as the blood gushed from a deep gash that had appeared on the side of her neck.
‘*SECTUMSEMPRA*! Draco repeated, again slashing at the snake before him. Realising that he had
now sliced the head clean off the Dark Lord’s pet, Draco tossed Harry’s wand back towards him
before clutching his Portkey and disappearing from sight, leaving only a bloodied mass lying on the
floor.

Harry reached for his wand but the throw had been poor; it struck an astonished Bella and
clattered onto the floor. Harry made to grab for it but froze at a sound that chilled his bones to
the marrow.

Lord Voldemort, who had initially let out a cry of rage on first witnessing the fate of his pet,
suddenly began to laugh. He laughed as Harry had never heard anyone laugh before; a triumphant bray
that echoed throughout the hall. With a sudden feeling of desperation, Harry understood. He knew
with crushing certainty exactly what was causing Lord Voldemort to behave in such a manner.

Harry sank to his knees again, but this time he was not in pain. Lord Voldemort must have sensed
his mood, for his laugh become louder; almost hysterical.

Harry felt sick and was struggling to breathe, but despite his feelings of nausea, one stark,
bitter truth rang out in his mind. There had been no black mist; no scream of agony when Nagini had
died. Instead, the snake had passed from this world without even a whimper. He glanced up at
Hermione and saw the same look of terrible understanding on her face that he knew must be visible
on his own.

*It had all been for nothing*, he thought in despair. *The deaths, the struggles, the
deceptions; all had been for nothing.*

Dumbledore had been wrong. The snake had not been a Horcrux.

************

a/n Apologies to anyone hoping for the final battle in this chapter, but I couldn’t resist a
final cliff...

Don’t worry, the clash will be coming along soon.

And a huge thank you once again to everyone who has had the courtesy to leave a review.

BF



16. ...and the Sword
--------------------

First, my apologies for putting you all through another cliff. Please accept the quick posting
of this chapter as my way of begging forgiveness (Yes, I’m talking to you Anonymous D – am I
forgiven now? All 8000%?)

And so on we go...

**Chapter 16 - …and the Sword**

Rufus Scrimgeour glanced at his watch; almost time. He had used the past few minutes to issue
urgent instructions to those members of his force who had managed to obtain cover within the castle
grounds. He had counted nearly forty and he prayed that this would be enough. It had not been easy
to relay his instructions without alerting the enemy to his plan but he had managed it. Whispering
furiously to those concealed behind the statues and columns either side of him, he had ordered that
they pass the word to the group next to them to be ready for a direct assault on the enemy
positions. The signal to attack would be a stunner fired by either himself or James. After that,
his men were to shoot to kill. He only hoped that the message did not become garbled as it was
passed – quite literally in this instance – from pillar to post. He recalled without amusement the
children’s game ‘Chinese Whispers’ and hoped for once that his people had managed to get the
message correct.

‘Sukey!’ he called, and within a moment, the little elf appeared before him. ‘Sukey,’ he began,
‘are Dobby and Kreacher ready?’

Sukey nodded. ‘They are ready, master; they await your signal to attack.’

‘Very good, Sukey. Can you please tell them to attack when they see a jet of red light being
fired at the enemy? As soon as I fire the first shot, we will be moving in.’

Sukey nodded her understanding.

‘And one final order, Sukey. Once you have relayed my instructions to Dobby and Kreacher, you
are to return home until I summon you. Do you understand?’ Rufus knew that he may not survive the
next few moments, but he wanted to be certain that his trusted elf did. He could see that Sukey was
not happy with the instructions though. ‘That is an order, Sukey. I will not be disobeyed in
this.’

He saw tears well up in the eyes of the little elf but she nodded her understanding before
disappearing. Rufus turned to James, expecting to see amusement; instead he saw only sadness in his
friend’s eyes.

‘She’s not cut out for this sort of thing,’ Rufus explained, gruffly.

‘I know,’ replied James. He smiled suddenly. ‘Are any of us?’ He looked towards the enemy
positions. ‘Do you think those two elves will be enough?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Rufus. ‘I can only hope that they are.’

James nodded. They were taking a huge gamble, but what choice did they have? ‘Ready, Rufus?’ he
asked quietly.

‘Ready,’ Rufus replied. He glanced at his watch again. ‘The Polyjuice Potion will be wearing off
soon. I’m glad,’ he added distractedly. ‘If I am to die today, then I would rather do so in my own
form. Good luck, old friend,’ he added as he shook James’ hand before gingerly getting to his
feet.

He peered cautiously round the side of the statue, his wand held firmly. Taking careful aim at a
point where a large number of enemy spells had originated from, he took a moment to compose
himself.

‘*STUPEFY*!’ he cried and a steak of red light burst forth and crashed into the low wall
where Voldemort’s forces lay hidden. Within an instant a barrage of green and red spells were sent
streaking towards the enemy, who returned fire in kind. The counter fire was terrific and Rufus
knew that there was no way that anyone could survive for long under such an onslaught. Despite
this, he stood upright.

‘CHARGE!’ he yelled, waving his wand above his head like a sword as he raced towards the enemy,
his troops following close behind.

He became aware of several things happening at once. Rufus had been in combat before and he soon
experienced the familiar – though bizarre – sensation of time seeming to slow down as he raced
towards his foes. He felt, rather than saw, a number of spells flash by him and realised that some
of them were scoring hits on those who charged behind him. He was soon reminded, however, that he
was not as agile as he once was and that the injury sustained to his leg all those years ago was
now proving to be a hindrance. A number of his force overtook him in the race to the wall, some
falling before being able to fire a shot. As he neared the barrier he suddenly saw a mass of House
Elves Apparate into position directly behind his enemies before beginning to unleash the powerful
and mystical magic that was unique to that strange little species. It was not just Dobby and
Kreacher who had answered the call; it seemed to Rufus that practically every elf in Hogwarts had
rallied to the cause. Black robes could now be seen as first one and then more of the Death Eaters
were blasted into the air by the elves and Rufus screamed as he fired a jet of green light towards
a figure that had risen in an attempt to escape the attack that had materialised behind him.

There was no time for mercy; he vaulted the low wall, vaguely surprised at his own agility and
soon he and the surviving group of Aurors following him found themselves in the midst of a
maelstrom. Curses flew in all directions and the fighting had now become almost hand to hand. Rufus
ducked as a Death Eater fired a jet of green light at him and then fired off a lethal curse of his
own that ran true and struck his assailant in the chest. Turning to seek out the next threat, he
suddenly felt himself being grabbed by the legs as a Death Eater on the ground clawed at his feet.
Rufus fell and was soon involved in a struggle to the death as he and his attacker clawed at one
another like primitive beasts. His assailant was too strong for him though; younger and fitter, the
young Death Eater managed to force Rufus’ wand away from him and raised his own, pointing it
directly at him. Rufus waited for the final curse but it never arrived as his attacker was suddenly
blasted backwards, struck by a curse from James. His friend did not even acknowledge him as he
sought out his next target, his brow knitted in concentration.

Getting to his feet, Rufus tried to take in the situation. It had become a pitched battle with
pairs of protagonists fighting tooth and nail for survival. He cast curse after curse against his
enemies, seeking out those who were gaining the upper hand and intervening where necessary, just as
James had intervened for him. The elves were doing likewise and he noted with sadness at least half
a dozen still forms that were smaller than the rest of the bodies that lay on the ground, never to
rise.

It was clear that they were winning though. Cries of quarter could be heard from some of the
Death Eaters who still lived but his troops were in no mood to grant such mercy. Too many of their
own had died today, and the taunts of Voldemort’s forces now came back to haunt them as one by one
they were dispatched with as little compunction as one might swat a fly. Before long, the firing
stopped altogether.

Rufus breathed deeply, sucking in a great lungful of air. He glanced at his watch; incredibly,
the whole battle, from the moment he had fired his first curse, had taken less than three minutes.
He couldn’t believe it; it felt like hours had passed. Looking around he saw bodies strewn
everywhere, friend and enemy alike. Some of the dead seemed to look up in astonishment, their faces
forever to display the shock and surprise experienced at the moment of death. Others seemed to be
frozen in a rictus of accusation; the charge leveled at Rufus himself. He had led them to this; to
sudden brutal death, and Rufus knew that these frozen faces would haunt him until his own time
came.

He jumped suddenly as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘Are you alright, Rufus?’ asked James.

Rufus turned to his friend, the relief washing over him. He nodded. ‘I’m fine; just not as young
as I used to be.’

‘Good,’ said James. He followed Rufus’ gaze to the mass of corpses that lay all around. They had
lost about half of their numbers in the attack. ‘We still have work to do, Rufus. We do not have
time to mourn at the moment. Only if we win will we be able to grieve. We are looking to you now,
old friend.’

Rufus nodded, knowing that James was correct. He did not have time for pity at the moment. He
looked amongst the elves and was relieved to see that both Dobby and Kreacher had survived. He
called them over.

‘Thank you, both,’ he began. ‘Words cannot express my gratitude for what you have done today,
but I must ask you to do one thing more. Can you open the doors to the school?’

‘I can, sir,’ replied Dobby, and for once the little elf sounded older than his years.

‘Thank you, Dobby. Give me five minutes to get things organised here and then open them please.’
He turned to James. ‘Get every available wand you can find. That includes those that managed to
escape from the castle grounds earlier. Assemble the force. We have one more battle to fight.’

James nodded soberly before dashing off to carry out Rufus’ orders. Rufus turned to look at the
castle.

*Soon, Harry. Hold on a bit longer.*

***********

Severus Snape watched in horror as the Dark Lord struggled to regain his composure. He glanced
at Potter and saw to his despair that he looked utterly defeated, slumped on the floor, his head
low. Snape could not blame him; indeed, it was taking all of his own self control not to do
likewise.

*Dumbledore had been wrong!*

He raged at the old man; raged at the complacency and the foolish trust that had led them here.
Dumbledore had been certain that the snake was the key; the final obstacle to the Dark Lord’s
death. Now he realised it had all been for nothing. He had no idea what the final Horcrux could be
and he was now aware that there was a very good chance that he would be dead before this day was
done.

He was lucky he wasn’t dead already. When Potter had foolishly revealed details of the ambush
that awaited the Dark Lord’s forces in the Ministry, Snape had felt like torturing the idiot boy
himself. Such an ambush would lead the Dark Lord to the obvious conclusion; there was a traitor
within his midst. He had gripped his wand as the questioning began and knew that it was only a
matter of time before Potter revealed him as the source. When that happened, Snape knew that he had
to be ready to act; he would a least try to strike a blow against the Dark Lord before he died.

And then Draco had acted. He hadn’t been sure if the boy would do it, but Draco evidently had
more backbone than he had been credited with. That the snake had not been a Horcrux was a calamity
to be sure, but Draco’s action might yet save his own life, Snape realised.

*If Potter had the wit to grasp the situation.*

He watched as the Dark Lord sat down once again on the headmaster’s chair. *He was*
*revelling* *in this*, he thought grimly. He had lost his faithful pet, but Snape knew
that the Dark Lord would consider that a small price to pay for the victory he had gained
today.

There was a decision to make now, he realised. He had put his trust in Albus and as a result of
that trust, had reluctantly accepted that Potter was the key. And now Potter was defeated; his
death was but moments away.

*So what do you do now, Severus*? he asked himself.

*************

‘Harry, Harry,’ said Lord Voldemort, the mirth still evident in his voice. ‘Do not berate
yourself, Harry. It was a noble effort. It never occurred to me that you could have suborned young
Draco to your cause. He will pay for putting his trust in you, Harry; but I must commend you on
your effort, futile though it was.’

Harry looked up at his enemy at these words. He battled with the despair that threatened to
crush him. At that moment, he felt like giving up; just rolling over and giving up. He couldn’t
take any more disappointments; any more setbacks or any more pain. He hung his head, unwilling to
reply to the taunts of Lord Voldemort, but felt suddenly a soft touch on his shoulder. A touch of
such tenderness and reassurance that he felt compelled to look up for the source.

*Hermione*.

Of course it was Hermione. She stood regarding him with such love and compassion that he could
not help but smile. She did not speak – indeed, she did not need to speak – as the message was
plain for him to see in her eyes.

She still believed in him.

Such faith could move mountains, he realised. Picking himself up, Harry stood to his full height
and regarded his enemy. Straight of back and standing proud; his eyes now blazed as he drew on the
strength of Hermione’s love. Whatever happened now, he would die like a man; die like his father
had died; fighting to the end. He tried to assess the situation and noticed that his wand still lay
on the floor about five feet away. Lord Voldemort followed his gaze.

‘I know what you are thinking; Harry, but you will never reach it. I will cut you down before
you even get close. You and the mudblood,’ he added. He turned to the Death Eater nearest to him.
‘Wormtail? Fetch Mr. Potter’s wand for me. And while you are at it, be so good as to retrieve that
rather magnificent sword he has.’ He turned back to Harry. ‘We can’t have you getting ideas now,
can we, Harry?’

Harry tensed as the former Marauder approached and retrieved the wand from the floor. *Was
this his chance?* he wondered.

‘Don’t even consider it, Harry. I will kill your friends if you make any move at all. Get the
sword, Wormtail and bring it to me. Do not fear; Harry will not try anything.’

Wormtail did as bidden. He tentatively approached Harry and unclipped the scabbard, never once
looking Harry in the eye as he did so. Harry stood mute; impotent to act on the rage and hatred he
felt as the man responsible for his parent’s deaths took away his last chance of killing Lord
Voldemort. He closed his eyes as Wormtail handed the sword hilt first to his master.

Lord Voldemort gently – almost reverentially – removed the sword from its scabbard and examined
the weapon for what seemed like an eternity. He turned the silver blade over in his hands as he
gazed upon the ruby encrusted hilt. ‘Magnificent,’ he breathed. ‘Quite magnificent.’

He handed the blade back to Wormtail, who bowed low to his master before taking up position
behind the headmaster’s chair; almost as if he was a knight of old guarding the king. He too seemed
in awe of the sword.

Lord Voldemort turned back to face Harry. ‘Thank you, Harry, for this little gift. It shall come
in very useful.’ He settled back in his chair. ‘Now, where were we? Of course; we were discussing
Mr. Malfoy, were we not? It now appears that my torturing you was a waste of effort. Young Draco
has revealed his true loyalties to me. Did you actually think that I would not discover the traitor
in my midst? I must confess that the boy has surprised me. I didn’t think he had it in him.’
Voldemort mused. ‘That is now twice today I have been surprised; it is becoming something of a
habit.’

Harry thought quickly. He could get Snape off the hook here, he realised. ‘He surprised me too,’
he finally replied. ‘For all that he provided us with valuable information, I did not think that he
had it in him to do what he did today. I wish him well.’

Voldemort laughed. ‘Your sentiments are wasted, Harry. There is no escape from me; Draco will
soon discover this. As you have already discovered.’ He changed tack. ‘Now tell me, Harry; why did
you think that Nagini was a Horcrux?’

Harry took a moment to reply. ‘It was Dumbledore,’ he finally said. ‘He was convinced that your
close connection to the snake was more than just that of a master and pet. He believed that you had
intended to make your final Horcrux with my death sixteen years ago. When that failed, Dumbledore
thought that you would have used the first available option. He thought Nagini would be that
option.’

Voldemort laughed humourlessly. ‘He was half right, Harry. I did indeed intend to mark your
death by creating my final Horcrux, but fate decided otherwise.’ Lord Voldemort seemed bemused by
the whole affair. ‘Did you honestly think I would entrust a fragment of my soul to a *snake?*
Much as Nagini was dear to me Harry, she was but an inferior creature. How could you have been so
foolish?’

Harry shrugged. ‘We didn’t have anything else to go on. You always were close to that snake. We
were told – that is Draco told us – that you were keeping her close. We even found out that you had
been keeping her particularly close recently. That was after our little encounter in the graveyard.
We surmised that you were keeping her close because you knew we were after your Horcruxes. Draco
told us that either you or Wormtail was with her at all times…’ Harry’s voice tailed off as he said
this.

‘You were remarkably well informed, Harry. Draco did indeed serve you well.’ He paused as he
regarded the boy in front of him. A boy, he suddenly realised, who did not seem to be paying any
attention to him at the moment. ‘Are you listening to me, Harry?’ asked Lord Voldemort with a hint
of annoyance in his voice.

But Harry was not listening to the Dark Lord. Instead, he was deep in thought, his eyes locked
in concentration as he tried to achieve a firmer grasp of a notion that had flitted across his mind
a moment ago.

*It wasn’t just Nagini who had been kept close to Voldemort, was it? If Wormtail was always
close to the snake and the snake was always close to Voldemort...*

He thought back to his observations when he had viewed the Marauder’s map in the Room of
Requirement. He had assumed that Nagini was with her master because Wormtail had accompanied the
Dark Lord everywhere. He had concluded this because Snape had told him that Wormtail had been
tasked with guarding the snake*.* He now realised a different truth with growing
certainty.

*It was not Wormtail who had been ordered to guard Nagini; it had been the other way round.
Voldemort was connected to the snake, she was the perfect guard, for if Wormtail was in danger or
threatened to betray his master, the snake could report this immediately.*

He looked up beyond Lord Voldemort and regarded the pathetic little creature standing behind the
headmaster’s chair. *Why would Voldemort want Pettigrew guarded?* Harry’s eyes took in the man
who had caused his parents deaths; took in his crumpled clothes, his thinning hair; his look of
premature ageing and his general air of a man carrying too many burdens.

He took in the silver hand at the end of Pettigrew’s right arm. The silver hand that Voldemort
had conjured from thin air on that fateful night, over two years ago.

*From thin air.* *Right after the ritual and right after Voldemort had ordered the murder
of Cedric.*

And then he knew.

The whole process had taken only seconds, but Harry felt a renewed surge of hope as he realised
that he was right. *He had to be right.*

‘It’s Wormtail, isn’t it?’ he finally asked, his voice low.

He stared directly at Lord Voldemort as he asked this. The Dark Lord’s eyes went wide for a
moment; his slit like nostrils flared; it was clear that this was a day for surprises and Harry
knew for certain by the reaction that he was right.

Lord Voldemort took a long moment to reply. Harry noticed that Pettigrew had also reacted to his
unexpected question. The former Marauder’s eyes had narrowed and his face took on the look of a
hunted animal. All attention in the hall was now on the man sitting in the headmaster’s chair; the
man who only a moment before had been in complete control of events. Finally, Voldemort spoke.

‘Well, well,’ he began. ‘You have done it again, Harry. You have managed to surprise Lord
Voldemort.’ He glanced briefly behind to regard Pettigrew. ‘I must congratulate you, Harry; I did
not expect you to work it out. Yes; it is Wormtail. And now you must die, for I cannot allow you to
live any longer with this knowledge. Your continued existence depended on your ignorance, Harry
Potter.’ The Dark Lord stood as he said this and raised his wand. Harry prepared himself for death
but took consolation from the fact that Snape remained undetected and now possessed the knowledge
to finally destroy Voldemort.

‘Master?’ asked Pettigrew suddenly, his voice hoarse. ‘Is this true? That you have placed a
portion of your soul within me?’

Voldemort turned to his servant. ‘Not quite, Wormtail. You do not hold the Horcrux; it is the
hand that contains it. When you die, it shall remain safe until I find a more suitable location for
it.’ It occurred to Lord Voldemort that this would probably have to be done soon. He regarded his
servant and noticed how he held his silver hand before him and stared at it with wide eyes. ‘I know
that it is a great honour for you, Wormtail, to be trusted with such a valuable task. Your master
did not grant this lightly.’

Voldemort seemed satisfied and turned back to face Harry. ‘Now, Harry; where were we?’

But Harry wasn’t watching Lord Voldemort. Instead he watched Pettigrew as the man struggled to
come to terms with what had been revealed. Pettigrew stared at the silver hand and Harry realised
that it was not an expression of wonder that was visible on the man’s face.

It was horror.

Harry watched as the expression changed once again, this time to resolution. Harry knew with
fascination what the man was going to do before he did it. He had seen this before on a dark night
in a graveyard.

Having clearly made a decision, Pettigrew swiftly took the sword he had been holding in his left
hand and brought it down with a cruel slash across his right wrist. The silver hand shot into the
air for a moment before becoming engulfed in a spray of gore that burst forth from the bloodied
stump where it had been attached. It clattered to the floor, a black mist slowly beginning to
emerge. There was no cry of pain from the man who had done this; only a look of grim determination
as Peter Pettigrew finally came to terms with what he had become and thrust the Sword of Godric
Gryffindor into the silver hand and destroyed it utterly. The scream that was let out from the
Horcrux was matched only by the scream of rage that burst forth from Lord Voldemort when he
realised what had happened. Pettigrew had time for one last look at Harry before he died and his
eyes sent a message of apology for everything he had done to bring them all to this. There was time
for no more as he was suddenly blasted by a jet of green light from the wand of Lord Voldemort. The
sword flew from his hand in an arc and stuck fast into the floor next to the Slytherin table.

Lord Voldemort looked down upon the corpse of Peter Pettigrew in disbelief. His eyes shifted to
the left and he saw the Sword of Gryffindor vibrate from side to side, its point embedded in the
floor. It took a moment for what had happened to fully sink in but then the Dark Lord was hit by a
crushing realisation.

*He was mortal now.*

Fighting the feeling of fear and panic that now threatened to overwhelm him he turned to face
the boy who had caused this. He was aware that everyone in the entire hall was standing in a state
of stunned disbelief as they stared at him. Terror gripped Lord Voldemort; a terror that he had
experienced but once before, the night Harry Potter had survived his killing curse. He looked at
the teenagers before him but did not see schoolchildren; instead, he saw nothing but threats.
Mortal threats to his very existence.

‘KILL THEM!’ he screamed. ‘KILL THEM ALL!’ he repeated before firing a curse at directly at
Harry.

Harry had been expecting it. He shoved Hermione to the floor with all of his might and then
dived under the Gryffindor table for cover, the curse from Voldemort missing his head by inches. He
looked round appalled as he saw the slaughter commence as Voldemort’s followers began to carry out
his orders. Harry watched in horror as the first people died. Bella in particular wasted no time;
she headed straight across the hall and cut down the four Professor’s who had stood in impotent
rage as they had watched the proceedings. Harry cried out in despair as he saw Minerva fall to the
first curse to come from Lestrange’s wand.

He never had time for anything else though. Dodging furiously, he crawled under the table
towards the doors as Voldemort drew nearer. He glanced across to see that Hermione and Ron had both
taken similar refuge; they too were trying to escape unnoticed on their hands and knees underneath
the Slytherin table. He caught sight of Dean Thomas being blasted by a stray curse as he tried to
flee and was soon confronted by the sightless eyes of his friend and classmate as his prone form
crashed to the ground just yards away. He heard the footsteps of Lord Voldemort draw ever closer;
each step marking the seconds as they ticked towards Harry’s moment of doom.

*We have no chance,* thought Harry desperately. *We are all going to die.*

And then the miracle happened.

***********

Severus Snape watched aghast as the curse started to fly. He stood rooted to the spot; frozen
with indecision as the world fell apart all around him. He was still coming to terms with what
Pettigrew had done - indeed he still could not believe that Potter had guessed the truth – and the
difficulty he had in processing what had occurred was hindering his thought process.

He saw Bella dispatch the four teachers in the corner with casual aplomb; people who only a few
short months ago had been his respected colleagues and friends. Turning to Potter, he watched with
increasing horror as the Dark Lord tried to get a clear shot at the boy as he scrambled for life
under the table. He saw Dean Thomas fall to a stray curse and observed almost dispassionately as
first Lavender Brown and then Terry Boot were slain as they tried to accost the young Death Eater
who held the sack with the student’s wands. Turning his head he saw that Neville Longbottom was now
preparing himself to have a try at succeeding where his classmates had failed.

In that moment, Severus Snape felt the welling of strong emotion within him. For years he had
suppressed his feelings, knowing that to allow them release would mean his death at the hands of
the Dark Lord. Now, like a volcano erupting, his emotion burst forth at the slaughter in front of
him.

What Severus Snape felt at that moment was hate. Pure, unadulterated hate for Lord Voldemort and
everything he stood for. He saw Longbottom on the floor, preparing to die.

He raised his wand and pointed it straight at the Death Eater who had so callously slain the two
students and was preparing to destroy a third.

*‘Avada Kedavra*!’ Snape shouted. The young man was blasted backwards, the sack flying
through the air to scatter its contents across the floor. He turned to Lord Voldemort as he moved
in on Potter for the kill and took careful aim. He did not see the look of astonishment on the face
of Neville Longbottom.

Just as he was about to fire at the Dark Lord, the great doors at the end of the hall burst open
for the second time that day with a crash loud enough to awaken the dead. Snape looked up and for
the first time in years felt the hope flower within him as he saw Rufus Scrimgeour burst into the
room at the head of a full squad of Aurors and at least a score of House Elves. All of them
immediately began to spread out and begin to fire on the Death Eaters.

Some sixth sense made Snape turn at that point, and he instinctively ducked as a curse flew past
his head. He looked up to the source; *Bella.*

‘You!’ she hissed. ‘You are the traitor!’ she added firing another curse straight at him.

Snape watched the green streak fly towards him, knowing now that it was all over.

***********

Lord Voldemort looked up aghast as the great doors crashed open and in poured a multitude of his
enemies. He let out a cry of rage and fired curse after curse as he backed his way towards the
headmaster’s chair. *How had they got in?* he thought in anguish. He turned to see which of
his followers were ready to face this new threat and was astonished to see Severus and Bella
squaring up to each other. He watched disbelievingly as a green streak left Bella’s wand and headed
straight for Severus and was further amazed when he saw the dark form of a Hogwarts student fly
through the air and knock Severus out of the path of the curse. He recognised the boy;
*Longbottom,* *was it not?* Bella moved in for the kill but Lord Voldemort knew she was
too late. Before he had even landed on the ground, Severus Snape fired the curse that killed
Bellatrix Lestrange.

This was too much for Lord Voldemort. *Severus Snape a traitor? This could not be
possible*. He was struggling to keep his wits about him; too much had happened today to shock
him. He noticed now that his Death Eaters were losing this battle. That they were outnumbered by
Ministry Aurors and that it was now the turn of his own people to die. There were only a handful of
them left now. He realised that there was now only one thing left that he had to do before
escaping.

*Potter.*

He turned to the boy; his nemesis; his own personal devil and watched as he crawled out from
underneath the table. He noticed that Potter was unarmed; that he too was struggling to take in
what was happening. At that point their eyes met, and Lord Voldemort was pleased. Was pleased
because Potter would see his death approach and know who had caused it. He levelled his wand at the
boy and for what seemed like an eternity, they regarded each other as if they were entirely alone
in the world. Then Potter finally looked away and Lord Voldemort acted.

‘*Avada Kedavra*!’

***********

Hermione had not hesitated when Harry had shoved her out the way; indeed, she had kept her wits
about her despite everything that had happened and had grabbed Ron before diving with him under the
Slytherin table. It was not much protection, but it was better than nothing. She had been vaguely
aware of the carnage around her as she led the two of them towards the great doors; she thought she
saw Lavender and Terry die and felt sure that Neville was in deep trouble too. Her heart had almost
broken when she saw her mentor and friend die. Minerva had done so much for her over the years and
Bella had cut her down like a dog.

She was further appalled when she saw Dean though; she watched horrified as he was blasted into
the air, his corpse crashing to the ground like a rag doll. It was then that she saw Harry as he
scrambled along the floor under the Gryffindor table and her heart nearly left her. Harry; who was
her love and her life.

*And who would be next to die,* she realised despairingly. There was no escape for him;
Lord Voldemort had him trapped.

It was right then that she thought her heart would burst within her breast as she turned to the
sound of the great doors crashing open. Her eyes widened as she saw a full squad of Aurors fly into
the melee, Rufus and James at their head. How they had got in she did not know, but then she
noticed the accompanying House Elves and it dawned on her how they had done it. With a renewed
sense of hope she turned to Ron.

‘C’mon,’ she began. ‘This isn’t over yet; we still have a chance.’ Grabbing him by the collar,
she reversed her course and began crawling back towards the teacher’s table. To where the corpse of
Peter Pettigrew lay with Harry’s wand lying next to him. She had gotten as far as the end of the
Slytherin table when she looked up in horror to see Lord Voldemort not fifteen feet away. She
followed his gaze and saw - to her utter amazement - Neville dive to save Snape from the path of a
curse and then Snape fire the spell to kill Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione felt a great degree of
satisfaction at this death; it might not bring back Minerva, but at least the bitch could no longer
hurt anyone else.

She saw Lord Voldemort turn and it was with a sense of desperation that she realised what his
intentions were.

*Harry*.

Glancing back, she saw the man she loved more than life itself struggle to his feet and lock
gazes with Lord Voldemort. She knew what was coming next. She turned to where his wand lay; it was
still too far away.

*Oh God, I’ll never get it in time*.

And then she saw the chance.

***********

Harry scrambled to his feet and tried to get his bearings; too much was going on. He ducked as a
curse flew past his ear and he quickly scanned the room for the source. Turning behind him, he saw
with satisfaction that the Aurors were spreading out and had begun the process of weeding out the
Death Eaters, one by one.

He had seen Bella fall. Had seen her attack Snape; had seen – incredibly – Neville save the life
of a man who had tormented him for six years. And had then watched Snape fire the curse that took
the life of the woman who had killed both Sirius and Minerva.

He turned back, seeking Hermione and was almost cried out in relief when he saw her and Ron
scrambling underneath the Slytherin table. *Still alive.*

It was then that he turned to face Lord Voldemort.

They locked eyes for a moment; a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity as they both
contemplated everything that had brought them to this. Harry knew what was coming. Voldemort had
lost today; had lost the battle; had lost his followers and had lost his Horcrux.

But still he lived. And Harry knew that only if Riddle killed him now could the Dark Lord hope
to achieve anything from this day. Harry watched dispassionately as Lord Voldemort raised his
wand.

He turned for one last look at Hermione. One last glimpse of the woman he loved before he died.
It was then that Harry felt a glimmer of hope.

He watched as Hermione grabbed the hilt of Godric Gryffindor’s sword. Watched as she pulled it
from the floor and threw it with all her might towards him. It arced high before clattering to the
ground and skidding to a stop, just yards from him. Harry did not waste any time. Diving onto the
floor, he closed the gap and thrust out his hand just as he heard the fateful words.

*‘Avada Kedavra!’*

In one swift, fluid motion Harry grasped the hilt of the sword, rolled onto his feet and turned
to face his enemy, the Sword held before him. He could not see Voldemort; at that moment all Harry
Potter could see was a flash of blinding green light that streaked towards him. He didn’t have time
to react and felt himself being blown backwards by the force of the impact. He crashed onto the
Gryffindor table, almost splitting it in half.

Harry would never know – and would always wonder – if it was just luck that had guided his hand
or whether for that one moment, the spirit of Godric Gryffindor had been present in the Sword and
had taken control of events. He would wonder whether the Prophecy had been true and that it was
only he that could have made the sword do what it did at that moment. But that was to come; all
that he was immediately aware of was that he was still alive. Still alive because the curse had
struck the ruby encrusted, silver hilt of the sword and had rebounded straight back towards Lord
Voldemort.

Who died. Finally, totally and utterly, died. Died by his own hand; struck by a curse of his own
making.

The hall held its breath for one long, tortuous moment before the mortal form of Tom Riddle
toppled over and crashed to the floor and was still.

Then all hell broke loose.

Harry leaned his head back on the table and closed his eyes*. It was all over. It was finally
all over*. He had just a moment to enjoy the moment himself when he was suddenly engulfed by a
brown bushy mass that clasped him so tight he found it difficult to breath.

*Hermione.*

He didn’t open his eyes; instead content to hold the woman he loved in his arms. He felt her
tears on his neck and realised that he too was crying.

But that didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore.

*It was all over. He could live now.*



17. Nineteen Days Later
-----------------------

Well, here it is – the final chapter. Finally I get to mark it as “Completed” and get my life
back for a while.

Sorry if there is too much saccharine in the chapter for some people’s taste, but I reckon I
have put these characters through enough in this story. Time for them to get a wee break. Hope you
enjoy…

**Chapter 17 – Nineteen Days Later**

**Saturday September 06 1997**

Harry looked to the heavens and figured the weather had decided to match his mood. The heavy,
cloud laden skies sent forth a deluge that left him feeling soaked to the skin, despite his warm,
waterproof cloak. The ground underfoot was sodden, each step taken accompanied by a soft
*squelch* as the displaced water was sucked back into the earth. He glanced back towards
Hogwarts and saw that the castle was shrouded in a fine mist – almost haar – that obscured the
towers and turrets and gave the whole landscape an almost ethereal quality.

As he neared the white tomb, he felt a soft squeeze in his hand and he turned to Hermione,
giving her a faint smile as he led them towards the newly dug hole next to the last resting place
of Albus Dumbledore. It really wasn’t a day for smiling, but he was sure Minerva would forgive him
the momentary lapse. He could almost see her now; the lips pursing in disapproval whilst her eyes
gave away the lie of her severity. He would miss that look, he knew. The look; and all of the other
little factors that had made Minerva McGonagall the person she was.

They were the last to arrive, he noted, and - whilst they were not late - the looks he received
from the Ministry official who was conducting the service gave him the impression that they had
been waiting for him before starting the proceedings. He ignored the look and nodded to a few
familiar faces in the mass of people that surrounded the fresh grave. He noticed without surprise
that the crowd parted in front of him to ease his path to the front of the group of mourners. No
one said a word, but all eyes were on him as he led Hermione through the throng.

It would take some getting used to, he knew, and he wondered if he would ever be comfortable
with the reverential treatment he now received. He had always been recognised; the ‘Boy-Who-Lived;’
a curiosity to be pointed at and wondered about – something of a freak show to many. Now he was the
“Sole Saviour of the Wizarding World!” The *Daily Prophet* had said so; it must be true, he
thought bitterly.

He had taken immediate steps to disabuse the Wizarding World of that fallacy. It had been a busy
week.

He did not remember much of the immediate aftermath of the battle in the Great Hall. He’d been
almost suffocated as the survivors had crowded round him, each wanting to steal a touch of Harry
Potter; to bask in the glory of his victory. He had wanted nothing to do with it. All he wanted to
do was to find a quite moment with his friends and to try and come to terms with what had happened.
Rufus had sensed his distress and had provided a Portkey to take them all back to the Briars.
Assuring Harry that he personally would take care of the clear-up operation, Rufus had insisted
that he leave. Harry had smiled his gratitude and he, Hermione and Ron had quickly made good their
escape.

He had actually went to sleep, incredible as that seemed to him now. Despite the images of death
and destruction that had dominated his thoughts, he had made his way up to his room, had crashed
onto his bead and had fallen almost instantly asleep. It was obvious that his body needed time to
absorb what had happened and had decided to overrule his mind in the matter. When he had woken over
ten hours later, he had felt like a new man.

Rufus had been waiting for him when he arrived downstairs. The old Auror had looked as if he was
at the end of his tether. He had been holding a list; a list that contained the names of all who
had fallen that day, and a list that Rufus was about to hand to the press for publication. Harry
had taken it; had read the names. Some he had recognised, others he did not and he felt a sudden
surge of guilt as he had contemplated the names of the dead. One thing had gratified him though;
the list contained the names of everyone who had died fighting Voldemort – everyone; human or elf.
It had occurred to him that these elves would receive the equality in death that they had been
denied in life. Looking up, he had been surprised to see the tears in the eyes of the Minister.

Harry had surprised them both by embracing him before sending him home to rest.

That had been five days ago, and now, as he neared the grave, Harry spotted Rufus standing
between James Walsh and Arthur Weasley. He gave them all a curt nod – this was not the time for
warm greetings – and joined Ron who was standing next to his father. They shook hands before
turning to face the conducting official, their faces grim.

*They have been waiting for me*, he thought ruefully. The official had taken Harry’s
arrival as his cue to begin proceedings. He opened the service, beginning by rambling a few words
on “why they were all here.” *Not very original*, thought Harry.

Harry didn’t listen; he did not need some stranger to tell him what a wonderful person Minerva
McGonagall had been. Instead, he placed his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and drew her close. Her
tears had started already. He glanced up and saw Ginny watching them, her eyes narrow as she
regarded the “golden couple” as the *Prophet* had taken to calling them. Harry suspected that
it was Ginny herself that had leaked the details of their relationship to the press. He wouldn’t
put it past her to have coined that hateful phrase about them either. There was a definite breach
between them now, but Harry couldn’t care less. It would be nice if they could be friends once
again, but he wasn’t going to bust a gut to make it happen.

*And now, even here*, thought Harry, *even here she can’t let it go,* he thought as he
saw the resentment in her eyes.

They had returned to the Burrow on Tuesday evening. Entering the kitchen via the back door,
Harry had been delighted to see all the Weasleys seated at the table, preparing for their meal.
Shouts of surprise and joy had greeted their arrival, but Harry had spotted immediately the change
to Ginny’s expression. She had noticed that Harry held Hermione’s hand tight in his own.

‘I thought you said there was no one else!’ she had exclaimed, accusingly. Harry had made to
answer, but had been surprised when Ron had beaten him to it.

‘Grow up, Ginny!’ he had said, his finger raised in front of him to forestall any further
outbursts from his sister. ‘This isn’t a fairy tale; Harry is not your Prince Charming and not
everyone gets to live happily ever after. Harry and Hermione are an item; they love each other. So
deal with it, Ginny. You can mope all you want but it won’t change anything. The sooner you realise
that, the better for everyone.’

Ginny had stood open mouthed for a moment before letting out a sob and dashing upstairs to her
room.

‘Ronald Weasley!’ Molly had began. ‘How dare…’

‘Stow it, mum. This has nothing to do with you.’

Molly had looked open mouthed at her youngest son for a moment. Had looked at her “little
Ronnikins” and had finally realised that he was no longer a child. That he had grown up; that
events had forced him to grow up. She had put down her apron and had approached the trio, embracing
each in turn. When she got to Harry, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

‘Oh, Harry. It’s so good to see you. Now sit down and eat; you look so thin!’ Her eyes had
twinkled as she said this, clearly aware of the joke.

That had brought much laughter, and the celebration had begun.

Now Harry found himself trying to suppress a smile at the memory. This would not be a good time
to suddenly burst out laughing. The Ministry official droned on and Harry continued to let his mind
wander. He was sure Minerva wouldn’t mind; indeed, he suspected that she would have been
exasperated by all the fuss.

This was not the first funeral Harry had attended this week, although it was to be the last for
the moment. He had attended three so far. First those of Lavender and Terry (Dean’s Muggle parents
had insisted on a private ceremony). On both occasions, he had spoken to the parents of his
schoolmates. Parents who were struggling to come to terms with their sudden loss. He had tried to
explain; tried to tell them that the death of their respective children had meant something; that
they had died fighting evil and fighting for their friends. He suspected that the words offered no
consolation. Harry had lost a number of loved ones in his short life, but he had come to the
conclusion that the grief a parent must feel for the loss of a child must be the cruellest form of
torture.

The third funeral had been the hardest to bear. It had been a mass burial; a burial of the six
house elves that had lost their lives fighting Lord Voldemort. Harry had stood beside Dobby and
Kreacher and had been strangely moved as the child like forms of the dead had been placed in the
grave. Hermione and Ron had also attended, but so too had Rufus and it was clear that the
sacrifices made by these elves had moved him deeply. He had spoken a few words afterwards. He had
said that victory would not have been possible without the help of the Hogwarts elves. Had said
that he would make it his mission to make sure everyone in the Wizarding World was made aware of
this fact. He hadn’t added anything else – he hadn’t needed to.

Harry had not lingered at any of these funerals, aware that the attention was on him instead of
those being laid to rest. It angered him that his increased fame could even overshadow the funerals
of heroes. That was what Lavender and Terry and all of the elves had been as far as Harry was
concerned; heroes.

And that was why he had decided to take the offensive against the *Prophet*. After a
discussion with Rufus, he had contacted Luna’s father and had granted a full interview to the
*Quibbler.* He had told them nearly everything. About the Horcruxes; about faking his death
and the key parts played by Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. Told of the critical intervention of
the house elves, and the bravery of his schoolmates. He told them everything; everything he thought
the public needed to know.

He told them one other truth too; something he never thought he would do. He had told them that
the victory would not have been possible without the assistance of Minister Rufus Scrimgeour. Rufus
had been amused; had joked that the whole thing had been nothing more than a great scam to finally
get Harry to be his ‘poster boy.’ Harry had laughed, but had then listened gravely as Rufus had
insisted that the decision was Harry’s to make; he did not have to say anything of Rufus’ role in
the victory. He had given his word, Rufus had explained; he had promised not to use Harry for
political gain.

Harry had ignored him and had endorsed the Minister anyway. A Minister who was now enjoying
record approval ratings as it turned out.

He suppressed a smile again and cast his eyes around those present at the graveside. At Neville,
who had saved the life of Severus Snape and in doing so had enabled his most hated teacher to
extract the revenge on Lestrange for what had been done to his parents. Neville was still quiet;
still reserved; but it was clear that he had a new found confidence. Neville had finally realised
that he didn’t have to live in the shadow of his parents any longer. He was his own man; had
performed his own heroic deeds. Even his gran seemed pleased with him, for once.

He looked at Luna; at Justin and Susan and all the others who had been there that day. And then
at Remus and Tonks; at Moody and Hagrid and at everyone else who had fought and struggled and
battled for all these years against Lord Voldemort. There was peace to be found here, he thought,
as he watched the mortal remains of Minerva McGonagall lowered into the grave. For her, this day
was an ending and he grieved for it. But for those who had come to pay their respects to this
wonderful woman, it was a beginning. A beginning that Minerva had fought for; even though she was
no longer here to savour it.

He felt his own tears fall now; tears that were lost amidst the raindrops that also ran down his
face. Tears for Minerva and everyone else who had died in the struggle over the years. In
particular, tears for Dumbledore and Sirius. And – not least – tears for his parents. He squeezed
Hermione closer to him as the coffin was finally laid to rest. Resting his chin on her head he
finally cast his glance to the one person whose gaze he had deliberately avoided up to now.

Severus Snape.

Who – despite being surrounded by the crowd of mourners – still seemed to cut a lone, solitary
figure as he watched the coffin of his colleague as it was finally laid to rest. It was as if those
nearest to him were deliberately keeping their distance; as if they were fearful of somehow
becoming contaminated by the man who had been considered as one of Lord Voldemort’s most trusted
aides. Despite the fact that Harry had made clear in his interview the exact role Snape had played
in the victory, too many seemed to regard him as a threat. Snape had been correct in his assertion;
he was the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore and the public would not be willing to let him live
in peace. This was the first time he had been seen in public; Rufus had lodged him at the Briars
after he, Hermione and Ron had left. As the Minister had explained; he did not know what else to do
with the man at the moment. The public still viewed Snape with deep suspicion. Harry could not but
help feel sympathy for the man – the man who had risked his life and had done so much to save them
all. It was for this reason that Harry had made a suggestion of his own to the Minister.

*And today they would find out if his idea had merit.*

Harry noticed that the crowd was beginning to disperse; the ceremony was over. He walked over to
the grave and lifted a handful of dirt from the heap that would soon be used to re-fill the hole.
He looked down on the pine coffin for a moment.

‘Good bye, Professor,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you,’ he added, before letting go the handful of
dirt. It landed on the lid with a splat.

Harry turned and caught Rufus’ eye. With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, the Minister
indicated towards Snape. Harry nodded and turned to Ron and Hermione to see if they were ready.
They were.

The four of them approached Severus Snape as he turned to leave. The former Potions Professor
caught sight of their approach and halted. He regarded them without amusement.

‘So,’ he began. ‘I am finally to learn my fate? I must say that it is about time. I am beginning
to lose my mind in that blasted house.’

Harry did not reply; he was now getting used to Snape’s bluster. Instead, it was Rufus who spoke
first.

‘I’m sorry it has taken so long, Severus, but as you can imagine, I have had my hands full since
Monday. I have not had the time to consult with you before now. Please accept my apologies.’

Snape looked guarded. ‘So what can I do for you, Minister?’ he asked.

‘I need your advice, Severus,’ replied Rufus. ‘I need your advice on when you think we should
re-open the school.’

Snape actually looked interested for a moment. ‘So you are re-opening Hogwarts? I wasn’t sure if
you would do so right away. It is the correct decision. It should be done as soon as possible, in
my opinion.’

‘I’m glad you think so,’ replied Rufus. ‘Of course, the decision was not – is not – mine to
make; the Ministry has no power over the school, you know this. We were waiting to hear the views
of the new Headmaster. We had to wait until the Board of Governors ratified the appointment
first.’

‘So the school has a new Head? Excellent, this is good news.’ Snape could not help but show his
interest now. Harry was pleased.

‘Who is it to be then?’ Snape asked, clearly curious.

Rufus let the moment drag out, clearly enjoying himself. ‘You, Severus,’ he finally replied.
‘You are to be the new Headmaster – if you desire the position of course.’

It took all of Harry’s willpower not to smile at that moment. It was not often Severus Snape was
taken unawares, but right now his mouth was opening and closing like a stranded fish. He looked at
each of them in turn as if suspecting some cruel trick was being played.

‘Me?’ he finally asked. ‘How is this possible? The Governors would never agree.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised, Severus,’ said Rufus airily, and it was clear that he could no longer
contain his own amusement. ‘I stressed to the Board the importance of appointing a suitable
Headmaster in order to re-open the school. I also emphasised the need to make the appointment as
quickly as possible. They agreed with me entirely. Of course, I would never have presumed to force
my own appointment on them, but I did offer to draw up a short list of potential candidates to help
them with their choice. They were most grateful for my assistance; especially when I stressed that
they were not bound to accept any of the candidates on my list.’

‘A short list?’ asked Snape. He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘How many names were on your
list, Minister?’ he added.

‘One,’ replied Rufus.

Snape looked stunned. ‘And they accepted this? The Board of Governors accepted this? Accepted
that you desired me for Headmaster? Accepted the preference of the Ministry?’

‘Not at first,’ conceded Rufus. ‘But when I pointed out that my proposal of your appointment had
the backing of many of the leading figures in our society, they soon changed their minds. I even
gave them a list of the names of those figures who expressly desired that you get the job.’

‘Another list? And just how many names were on this particular list?’ He looked directly at
Harry as he asked this. Harry decided that this would be a good moment to examine his shoes.

‘The strange thing is there was only one name on that list too. He must be a very influential
person. Whoever he is,’ added Rufus, his face giving nothing away.

‘I’m sure he is,’ replied Snape, looking very intently at Harry, who completely ignored him and
was by now was looking to the sky as if contemplating the weather.

‘So will you take the job?’ asked Rufus, and this time the tone was serious.

Snape looked at the Minister for a long moment. Finally he spoke. ‘Would it be possible for me
to speak to Mr. Potter alone for a few a moments? There is something personal I wish to discuss
with him. You shall have my answer once I have done this, if this is acceptable to you.’

‘It is quite acceptable, Severus. We shall leave you alone for now,’ he said, indicating towards
Ron and Hermione. He then held out his hand to Snape.

‘And whatever you decide, please accept my thanks for everything that you did. I have the
greatest respect for you now, Severus.’

Snape looked at the proffered hand with suspicion, but after a moment extended his own and the
two men shook hands. He was further startled by the sudden movement of Ron who also extended his
hand. Snape shook this too.

Finally, Hermione surprised everyone by stepping forward and embracing her former professor.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for everything.’

Harry bit his lip to prevent the laughter from bursting forth at such a solemn moment. Snape was
standing with his arms at his side as Hermione hugged him. He looked as if he had never been hugged
in his entire life and his eyes were wide in shock. Finally, he brought up his right arm and patted
Hermione on the shoulder, as if petting a dog.

He cleared his throat. ‘Er…thank you, Miss Granger. You are welcome,’ he finally managed.

Hermione released him and turned to leave. Before she did, she gave Harry a soft kiss. ‘See you
in a bit,’ she said, before ambling off with Ron and Rufus.

Snape watched her go and then noticed the look in Harry’s eyes as he too followed her
departure.

‘There may be hope for you yet, Potter.’ He waited until Harry turned to face him, his eyebrow
raised in question. ‘She has enough brains for both of you. You may yet amount to something,
although why such an unworthy vessel as you should be granted such good fortune is beyond me’ he
added.

Harry smiled at the words. Defeating Voldemort obviously did not count as “something” as far as
this man was concerned. He realised that if he ever got too big for his boots then all he would
have to do was to visit Snape. The man would soon cut him down to size.

‘So what can I do for you, Severus?’ he asked.

Snape was silent for a long moment. ‘Why?’ he finally asked. ‘I know it was you; only you have
the influence to pull this off at the minute. Why?’

Harry sighed. ‘Because the school needs to re-open and in order to achieve this, it needs a new
Head.’

‘But why me?’

Harry regarded Snape for a moment. ‘Because you are the best man for the job. Because one of the
things you have taught me is to use my reason and not my emotions when making big decisions. And my
reason tells me that no one is more suited to the position than you. Besides,’ he added sadly, ‘it
does not seem like too much to ask, does it?’

Snape smiled at the memory, before looking at his feet, deep in thought. ‘Will you be returning
as a student?’ he finally asked.

‘I think so. Our world needs to heal. It needs to get back to normal. And whilst I hate the
fact, I cannot deny that I occupy a …unique position in our society. I think it would help us get
back to normal if I did return to Hogwarts. It might also help the public deal with your
appointment. I am backing you publicly, Severus; I can do no more. Besides,’ he added, turning to
the castle, ‘this is my home.’

‘Mine too,’ said Snape, quietly. He looked thoughtful again. ‘I thought you didn’t like the fame
and attention?’

Harry sighed. ‘I don’t – I hate it. But I also realised that I could do some good with it.
Helping you is a start; you deserve whatever is in my power to give for what you did.’

Snape regarded the young man in front of him, amazed at the magnanimity he was displaying. ‘You
do realise, Potter, that if you do return to Hogwarts, you cannot expect such preferential
treatment? That you will be just another student? Your power and influence will not extend to the
corridors of my school.’

Harry smiled. ‘I would expect nothing less. Does this mean you will take the appointment?’

Snape nodded. ‘It means I will take the appointment.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Thank you,
Harry.’

Harry looked surprised for a moment. Then he smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Severus. Sorry. I mean
your welcome, *Headmaster.*’ Harry held out his hand.

Snape regarded the proffered hand before slowly accepting the handshake. Harry nodded to the man
and turned to leave. He had only gotten a few paces before he turned back.

‘One final thing,’ he said. He looked directly at Snape. ‘What would you have done had Voldemort
killed me? If he had won before your true loyalties had been revealed?’

Snape took what seemed like an age before replying. The only sound was the rain as it continued
to fall in torrents. Finally he looked Harry in the eye, aware that this was some weird kind of
test. A final test.

‘I have though of little else all week.’

‘And?’

‘And I don’t know,’ Snape replied. ‘In all honesty, I do not know.’

Harry nodded, satisfied. ‘That’s what I thought. Had you said anything else I would have had you
arrested. Goodbye, Headmaster.’

And with that final bombshell, Harry turned to leave.

Headmaster Snape watched him go and after a moment, he smiled. *How very Slytherin of him*,
he thought. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

***********

**Saturday 20 September 1997**

‘…and do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband…’

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand as he heard the traditional words before passing her his
handkerchief so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. It was a glorious sunny day with not a
cloud in the sky and Harry thought this only fitting; the weather seemed to be in tune with his own
moods these days and right now it more than adequately expressed how he was feeling.

‘I do,’ replied Fleur, as she gazed lovingly into the eyes of Bill Weasley.

‘Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,’ said the official who was
conducting the wedding. Bill leaned across and gently planted a kiss onto the lips of his wife.
Harry joined in the applause with everyone else who had come to celebrate this day.

It seemed only fitting; the wedding had been postponed as a result of his ‘death’ and now –
after nineteen days of mourning – it served to provide everyone with new hope for the future. The
sun shone, the birds sang and everyone present felt the sheer joy of being alive on such a day. The
garden of the Burrow looked wonderful and Harry felt honoured to be present.

‘Did you remember the confetti?’ asked Hermione sharply. Harry smiled and handed her the box
before watching in amusement as she slipped out of her seat and darted to the end of the aisle to
await the arrival of the happy couple.

‘Where’s she off to?’ whispered Ron. ‘What’s confetti?’

‘It’s a Muggle thing,’ answered Harry, realisation suddenly dawning. *This should be
good.*

Ron watched in bemusement as Hermione scattered the confetti over the heads of his brother and
new sister-in-law. He was not the only one, Harry realised; every other witch and wizard present
looked at her as if she was mad.

‘So, do all Muggles toss litter over newly-weds then?’ asked Ron.

Harry smiled. ‘It’s a tradition, Ron. She’s just following tradition.’

‘Bloody mental, if you ask me.’

He looked up to the shouts of laughter from all around to see the scarlet face of his girlfriend
as she suddenly realised that confetti was not a tradition at wizard weddings. He laughed deeply
and approached her, wrapping her in a bear hug and lifting her clean off the ground.

‘You are wonderful,’ he said.

‘I didn’t know! I just assumed wizards did it too!’

Harry laughed again. ‘Maybe they will now, Hermione. You might have started a trend here.’

She swatted his arm before dissolving into her own fits of giggles. Everyone around them laughed
uproariously.

‘C’mon,’ said Harry, taking her hand. ‘Let’s go and get a drink,’ he added as he led her towards
the marquee. A few moments later, they were both enjoying a cool drink; he an ice cold beer;
Hermione a glass of white wine.

‘You do realise that I should punish you both for drinking alcohol. The Head Boy and Girl should
be setting an example, don’t you think?’

Harry turned to the voice. ‘Headmaster,’ he said. ‘Glad you could make it.’ He looked at his
drink. ‘I suppose you could punish us, but if I were to offer to get you one, would you be willing
to overlook the misdemeanour?’

Snape looked thoughtful. ‘What’s this Mr. Potter? Trying to bribe me?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘It would be a single malt scotch,’ replied Harry. ‘Someone introduced me to it once. I think
you might like it.’

‘In that case, Mr. Potter, I might be open to a little bribery.’ He waited until Harry got him a
drink. ‘Your health, Mr Potter, Miss Granger.’ He took a drink. ‘Carry on; do not let me distract
you,’ he added before strolling off.

Harry and Hermione shared a look and a smile. It had been strange to return to Hogwarts just
under two weeks ago. Strange to return to the scene of so much carnage and so much pain. But the
strangest thing of all had been to watch Severus Snape take his seat in the Headmaster’s chair the
evening of the welcoming feast. He had made a brief speech, stressing the need for healing and
reconciliation. It had been amazing to hear the words come from his mouth.

The new Headmaster had his work cut out. New teachers had to be found and Harry had been
delighted when the first appointment was confirmed. Remus Lupin once again accepted the position of
DADA teacher, only this time he was also confirmed as the new head of Gryffindor House. With the
appointment of a werewolf to the teaching staff, Snape was sending a message. *This is my school
now*.

Slughorn had agreed to continue as Potion’s master – and was now Head of Slytherin House -
despite Snape’s desire to take both jobs himself. It had been a difficult decision for the new Head
but he had finally accepted that he had to be above House rivalries now. His concern was the entire
school now, but that was not to say that he did not show some favour to his old house.

Snape had confirmed Minerva’s decision to have Hermione as Head Girl. This had been an easy
decision for him to make. He had consulted with the portrait of Albus and the new portrait of
Minerva that now hung in his office. Both portraits had been delighted at hearing of Snape’s new
role. What had surprised a few people, though, was the new Headmaster’s decision to approach Ron
before the school opened to ask his thoughts on who should be Head Boy. Ron technically held the
position as he had been given the badge before the battle. Ron, however, hadn’t hesitated. He had
insisted that Harry receive the honour; a sure sign of his growing maturity.

*‘Besides,’* he had said, *‘it doesn’t matter if he has the badge or not; everyone will
look to Harry as Head Boy regardless.*’

But it wasn’t the badge that Harry had been pleased to receive. What really made the position
worth while was that he got to use the Head Boy’s suite. Harry had insisted that Ron move in with
him but as Hermione had her own room too the two of them had been able to spend some time on their
developing relationship. Snape had not demurred at the situation. His only comment had been a dry
‘make sure you behave’ before he had dismissed them from his office. They had heard the laughter
from Albus and Minerva before they had even reached the stairs.

Harry smiled at the memory. He was now beginning to enjoy the life he had always dreamed of. He
had a girlfriend he loved (and who seemed to love him); a deep and close friend in Ron and – most
importantly – did not have to deal with the threat of a dark wizard trying to murder him at every
turn.

Life was good right now.

He watched as Ron meandered his way through the crowd towards them, doing his best to appear
nonchalant as he noticed the admiring glances he was receiving from many of the young witches
present. Harry was glad; he had explained in great detail to the press everything Ron had did to
help him over the years. He had stated emphatically just how important his contribution had been
and had listed some of his more heroic exploits. And then he had casually mentioned that his friend
was currently unattached.

It had been the very least he could do.

As a result of his new fame (and of his own unavailability, Harry knew, without conceit), Ron
now had to virtually fight the girls off with a pointed stick. He was revelling in it. Hermione did
not approve; she thought Ron shouldn’t act so shallow and instead try and find himself a meaningful
relationship. Harry had told her to cut him some slack; Ron deserved a little fun.

And fun was what he had been having these past few weeks.

‘Alright?’ asked Ron as he finally reached them. Harry passed him a beer and the three friends
took a moment to relax in silence. Harry enjoyed just watching the proceedings. He knew most of the
people here and as a result he wasn’t being pestered for autographs and the like. It was bliss.

He saw Rufus and James Walsh approach. They had been perhaps the busiest men of all recently;
dealing with the aftermath of the battle. The funerals of the Aurors had needed arranging. Then the
re-opening of Hogwarts had to be organised. Next, the Death Eater trials had to be processed and
finally the administration of government itself had needed taking care of. One of the first things
to be done had been the repeal of the emergency powers. Harry had been delighted to learn that none
of the captured Death Eaters would be executed.

They were all to be imprisoned, however. All, save one. Draco Malfoy had been allowed to go
free. Rufus had considered the fact that he had let in Death Eaters to Hogwarts the night
Dumbledore had died. Although Snape had performed the deed at the Headmaster’s instructions, Draco
had not known this – he had let in the Death Eaters with malicious intent.

However, Rufus had continued; in view of his efforts since that night; and in view of the fact
that both Harry Potter and Severus Snape had spoken on his behalf; he would be set free and all
charges dropped.

He would not be allowed to return to Hogwarts, though. Not after betraying the school and his
classmates. Snape had been adamant on that point.

Draco would survive, though, Harry knew. With both his parents now in prison, he had inherited
the entire Malfoy fortune. It would come in useful to help him rehabilitate the Malfoy name.

Harry had thought Snape’s decision harsh, but had agreed in the end. One sentence he did not
think severe, however, was the ten year sentence handed to Dolores Umbridge. Harry would have given
the bitch more, but Rufus had said that it was the most he could give her. The Minister had been
particularly scathing when passing sentence and had seemed to take the whole thing personally.
Which was understandable, Harry knew. Although she had spied for Voldemort, she had not (at least
to their knowledge) taken part in any murders or assaults. Ten years would have to do.

Harry hoped she rotted in jail.

‘Hello, you three,’ said Rufus. ‘Having fun?’

‘We sure are, Rufus. It’s a fine day and there’s no school tomorrow. We even have a pass from
the Headmaster to have a few drinks,’ replied Harry.

Rufus laughed. ‘I won’t keep you too long. I just wanted to let Hermione know that I will be
tabling the new Elf Rights Act in the Wizengamot on Monday. I am assured that it will pass with
little obstruction.’

Hermione squealed with delight and hugged the Minister, causing a second bout of laughter from
those nearby. She *was giving Muggles a bad name*, thought Harry. Nonetheless, he too was
delighted at the news.

Hermione had spoken to Rufus after the funeral of the elves that had died and had asked him
directly what he intended to do about the current status of House Elves. This had led to a lengthy
debate between the two which had only ended when an exasperated Rufus had summoned Sukey and asked
her if she wanted to be set free.

The little elf had burst into tears.

*‘You see, Hermione, they don’t want to be set free. Dobby is unique; he is not representative
of his people.’*

*‘But some of them are treated so badly!*’ Hermione had exclaimed.

And then the politician in Rufus had taken over. He had grabbed a quill and parchment and had
jotted down some ideas. Hermione had tossed in a few of her own and soon the two had reached an
acceptable compromise. Rufus then handed this hastily scrawled memo to his Private Secretaries and
within a few days it came back in the format of a formal proposal.

House Elves would no longer be bound against their will. They could leave service whenever they
wanted. Anyone caught mistreating one would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. No longer
would elves be viewed as inferior to humans – at least not in the eyes of the Law anyway - some
prejudices would take longer to change.

*It was start*, thought Harry.

He smiled as Hermione turned to hug him too. ‘This would never have happened had you not spoken
out, Harry. Thank you!’

Rufus laughed. ‘Well, I just wanted to let you know. Enjoy the rest of the day. We had better
return to our wives before we get into more trouble. See you later,’ he finished, with a wave.

‘I’m off too,’ said Ron, whose gaze was now fixed on a pretty brunette who was standing on her
own about thirty feet away. I’ll see you two later.’

Harry watched him go with amusement. He turned to Hermione and took her hand. They both watched
as Bill led Fleur to the dance floor for their first waltz as man and wife. Within a few moments,
Arthur joined them with Fleur’s mother and Molly, who danced with Monsieur Delaceur.

Harry looked at Hermione.

‘Fancy a dance?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she replied, before leading him to the dance floor.

Harry was immediately aware of the eyes on him as he danced slowly with his girlfriend. At first
he was uncomfortable, but then he realised that these people were his friends; they wished him
well. And then he looked at the woman that he held in his arms and his heart swelled with the love
he felt for her at that moment. The sun was shining; the laughter was in the air and it finally
occurred to Harry as he squeezed Hermione tighter that he did actually have a future. A future in
which he and the woman he held could do anything they wanted – go anywhere they wanted. It was only
now that Harry Potter finally came to terms with what it meant to be free; what it meant to really
live. He leaned in and gave Hermione a soft kiss; a kiss of tenderness and love.

She looked at him quizzically, unused to such public displays of affection.

‘Are you OK, Harry?’ she asked.

He took along moment to answer her. A moment in which he saw his future with this woman; a
future that had love and laughter and – when the time came and if they were lucky – children of
their own to love and to teach and to spoil in the years to come. He held her tighter to his chest
as they slowly turned to the music.

‘Never better,’ he replied, before leaning in to kiss her again, realising that he had never
spoken truer words in his whole life.

***********

a/n - So that’s it; finally done. I’m glad some of you seemed to enjoy it and – once again – a
huge thank you to all who reviewed. I enjoyed reading your comments and observations and I found
some of them very helpful as I have not attempted anything like this before.

I would like to say sorry for the cliffs, but I won’t because I would be lying if I did. The
truth is that I enjoyed every second of leaving you all in the lurch (evil laugh). I reckon I was
entitled to a wee bit of fun for my efforts…

Ta Ta for now.

BF