Harry Potter and the Battle of the Age

Chapter Nine

Deep in the Second War

What with Snape tormenting Harry and Rachel every chance he had, N.E.W.T. pressure increasing by the day, and his playing mediator between Ron and Hermione, Harry was very glad when holly wreaths and mistletoe began appearing in the hallways of Hogwarts--it meant Christmas break was approaching.

Soon arrangements were made for Harry and Rachel to go with Ron to the Burrow, and Ginny to, yet again, go with Neville to his grandmother's house for the holidays. Harry was a bit surprised with how much time the two spent together, but he had never seen them exchange harsh words or even walk apart down the hallway; they had become almost inseparable. It was sweet to see them together, but after November, the sight only reinforced one thing-- Ginny's brother and Hermione.

Hermione had decided to spend Christmas with her family. It felt odd to think about the three of them, Harry, Rachel, and Ron, without her. Hermione spoke cheerily about skiing, which Harry thought she hated, and a quiet holiday with her parents, but her words seemed to mask something else. He couldn't quite believe she and Ron had really ended their relationship, even as friends.

The queer feeling began afresh on the train ride, when Neville and Ginny went off to their own compartment and Harry and Rachel sat beside each other opposite Ron, alone. It increased awkwardly when they arrived at the station and Mrs. Weasley gave her son an extra-long hug, during which he squirmed and tried to push her off roughly. Even Fred and George seemed to feel sorry for him, but they tousled his hair roughly, exposing his red ears, instead of hugging him.

"Now listen, all of you, there's been a change of plans," Mrs. Weasley said seriously after greetings had been exchanged. "We would have told you sooner, but it's only just been decided-- Dumbledore thinks this for the best." She sounded like she had bad news. Harry braced himself.

"We will be staying at Grimmauld Place again, instead of the Burrow."

Harry's stomach loosened. Well... it could have been worse...

"Death Eater activity is soaring; we don't want to take any risks with your safety," Mrs. Weasley said, looking directly at Harry with an apologetic expression. "I know it's not your favourite place, but it's safest, now, and we won't be taking any chances."

Harry nodded and bent to pick up Hedwig in her cage.

"You okay?" Rachel asked lightly, following him after the Weasleys.

"Of course," Harry replied, just as nonchalantly. Rachel looked at him for a second but said nothing else.

Grimmauld Place was just as dark, ominous and dank as when they had left, but much busier. Harry was slightly stunned to find how sheltered they were at Hogwarts. The old house now resembled a headquarters for a military base inside. People came and went much more often then was usual the past years, sometimes injured. Harry began to feel immensely guilty about being safe at school while an all-out war was being waged just in London. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin, who came the following day, however, acted the same as they usually did. Harry helped dig out some old Christmas things and put them up with Rachel and Ron, bringing at least some idea of hominess to the house, while Mrs. Weasley was, as always, in the kitchen cooking for the wearied Order crowd.

Their third evening back, after they had eaten dinner with Mundungus Fletcher, whom Mrs. Weasley found galling but everyone else loved to listen to, Harry wandered out to the sitting room and watched the low fire slowly turn to glowing embers. Although he would never admit it to himself, he wasn't happy at all to be back, and was suddenly also unhappy about being alone in the great empty room. He jumped when he heard footsteps behind him. Rachel sat down beside him and they both looked into the fire once more. After a few minutes she spoke.

"Everyone is so creeped out being back here..."

"It's all the people," Harry said quietly. "The war..."

Rachel silently picked up the top paper from a stack of Daily Prophets. Every headline screamed of Death Eaters and attacks, and killings. She sighed wearily and tossed it back.

"It's surreal," she said. "It really is different; it's quieter everywhere. Did you see how empty Hogsmead got after dark?"

Harry nodded. Rachel continued.

"I mean, at school you read about Aurors fighting Death Eaters and Muggle disappearances, but here, it's like... like this great big distant thing is real and affects you personally... it's like seeing a thundercloud up close or something."

That's what Harry was thinking-- it was real. His thoughts wandered. He had fought Voldemort himself, face-to-face, many times... but nonetheless, at school it seemed-- different. Distant. Harry thought suddenly of the prophecy he had learned about two years ago. This would have to end... sometime, he had to be stopped. And Harry had to do it-- he had to kill. Suddenly, somehow, he knew that it would have to happen soon... how long could Voldemort go on chasing after Harry, and failing, and putting off his great plans of immortality and total domination for this skinny seventeen year old? Another unexpected thought struck Harry-- he could die. Or Rachel could die. Or Ron, or Hermione, or Hagrid or Lupin, or almost anybody he was close to... a great battle was inevitable. And it was coming. Harry would face Voldemort, and so many lives would hang in the balance... all these thoughts were giving Harry a tight throat and a strange feeling in his chest and stomach. He had to beat him... he had too.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt was hurt, he just came in... he was ambushed by a Death Eater in the street."

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, startled.

"Yeah, he beat him, and he just got roughed up a bit.... He was just on the other side of the neighbourhood, though," Rachel said, and shuddered. "These same men making international headlines for all the torture and killing they're doing were just outside... they came so close to Headquarters... God, what if it's Lupin or Mrs. Weasley next time-- or Chris, or the twins-- or one of us...?" Rachel's low voice faltered.

Harry felt a powerful rush of emotion; what was wrong with Voldemort, that he could scare people so badly and hurt them so much? How could he possibly do this; how does one come up with methods, let alone reasons, to cause so much suffering... it was incomprehensible. Harry could never understand him... he would just have to stop him. He put his arm around Rachel and hugged her tightly. She must have been having the same thoughts Harry had. He held her almost fiercely. He was never going to let Voldemort hurt her again, or hurt anybody... he was going to stop him. From somewhere deep inside Harry, the vow came to him as a statement of fact. For a while even his sick feelings vanished. He was going to battle with Voldemort. And he was going to defeat him.

Whatever it took, Harry Potter was going to stop Voldemort.

***

From that evening on, whenever Harry saw someone come in to give a report or bring news of Death Eaters, the vow rose faintly in him, like a deep bell's clanging from miles away, and strengthened his resolve. Without realizing it, he developed a habit of taking out his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks out and practicing spells, now that he was seventeen and could perform magic outside of school. Whenever he was able to do a difficult spell for the first time, he felt a strange pride different than the triumph that comes from mastering a difficult task; it was almost an added sense of security. He also felt a vague brothership with, along with a new reverence for, any Order members sitting around the table. A couple times he almost felt like saluting the Weasley twins, Tonks, or Chris Connor when they came back from dangerous missions; they were hardly older than him and risking their lives for the Order. On the occasions Dumbledore came over, Harry felt dimly as if he was a private in the presence of a great general.

***

Three days before Christmas Eve, Harry was playing Exploding Snap with Ron, trying to keep his mind occupied and off Hermione, and Rachel was helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Sprite had been batting happily at the cards, until one exploded in her face, and Harry and Ron hadn't seen her since. Lupin walked by the open door, followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt, his bandages removed, Snape, Tonks, Moody, and Chris.

"Where are all of them going?" Ron wondered.

"I heard something about checking out an abandoned little cottage on the other side of London as a sort of safe house," Harry said. "I think they wanted an empty place to regroup or retreat to in the middle of a mission if they had to."

"Smart idea..." Ron mused, and they did not say anything else on the subject until, about half an hour later, the front door crashed open and Harry heard Lupin yell, "Molly!"

Harry and Ron raced to the front room and saw the group, looking ashen and battle-worn.

"Yes-- goodness, what happened?"

"We should have known better than to use an old magic house... the cottage once belonged to Ignatius Grunnion, of course we weren't the only ones with our eyes on it, dammit! We didn't even perform basic safety precautions..." Mad-Eye Moody slated himself mercilessly. Rachel appeared in the doorway behind Mrs. Weasley.

"They were there," Lupin said urgently. "A dozen or so Death Eaters; I think they were thinking of using the place the same way we were... we need to get in touch with Dumbledore immediately for a plan of action."

He hesitated.

"They-- they have one of ours," he said agonizingly. "Stunned him and Disapparated with him; we don't know where..."

Mrs. Weasley froze in the middle of hurrying across the room to get Dumbledore's present location. She started to ask who, horrified, but realized the need for haste and left for Dumbledore's whereabouts. Harry scanned the group quickly. Who was missing... certainly not...

Rachel's voice suddenly cut through the hasty discussions and urgent plan-making.

"Where's m-- where's Snape?"

She spoke quietly, but the whole room fell silent. Lupin looked solemnly at her and could not find the words. Rachel looked unseeingly around her, then slipped back through the door, letting it fall shut behind her. Lupin closed his eyes. Chris made for the door, but Shacklebolt put a hand on his arm, saying, "We need you..."

Harry was already at the kitchen entrance.

"Take care of her," Chris threw over his shoulder before Harry darted into the kitchen.

The door leading to the backyard was open slightly. Harry grabbed Rachel's cloak off the hook and followed her outside. She was standing in the crunchy snow by the tall, vine-tangled fence, stroking a Disillusioned Buckbeak numbly. Harry could see the deep, birdlike impressions of his feet in the snow, where he had been allowed outside some nights to enjoy the fresh air. He came up behind Rachel and put the cloak around her shoulders, bowing hastily to the hippogriff.

"Raich-- are you okay?" She was biting her lip and looked out of her mind with worry. Harry could understand-- after all, even he didn't want Snape dead, much as he hated him, and Snape was her father...

"Not again..." Rachel murmured. "They'll kill him for sure; Voldemort has to make an example of traitors..."

Harry noticed something at her feet, but in the dim light it was hard to see what.

"They'll get him back, Rachel, they always do," Harry tried to soothe her. "Dumbledore can get people together in about two minutes if he has to, and they'll save him..."

"They don't even know where they took him... and even if they did, Voldemort's got every protection he can get on his meeting places; they'll never get there in time..." her voice cracked. "How will they find him?"

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Rachel... Dumbledore always finds a way, I swear; he'll get Snape back..."

She stood silently in the bitter cold, wisps of snow occasionally fluttering around her face. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Not again..." was the only thing she could mutter. "No, not again..." Harry desperately tried to think of some comfort.

"At least come inside, Rachel... come on, we'll wait for him back in the house and Lupin can show you what they're going to do, okay?"

Rachel did not even hear him.

"We have to do something, I mean... can't we help him?"

"I don't know, but let's go see what they're going to do; Lupin or Moody will have something to tell us--"

"No they won't; you know they can't talk about Order stuff! Besides, they have to go straight away, I mean-- Voldemort's wanted him dead for-- for ages..."

Harry lost his voice again.

"Let's just see..."

Harry tried fruitlessly once again to get her inside, but Rachel, glancing away to brush off her tears, went curiously still. Harry glanced in the direction she was staring. For a moment he saw nothing, then there was a blurred figure streaking into the air-- Tonks had taken off on broomstick, and was quickly lost in the fog of snowflakes and night sky. Another figure, possibly Moody, soon followed, then another.

"See, Rachel? They've gone to--"

Harry stopped and looked around. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. Then he noticed footprints appearing near the large impressions Buckbeak's claws made.

"Where did you get that?" Harry asked reflexively-- his Invisibility Cloak must have been by door since his regular cloak was left too long to dry over the fire. "Rachel-- what are you thinking?"

Rachel's footprints had stopped appearing, just next to the hippogriff. Harry heard him whinny happily and stomp to have a rider on his back.

"Raich-- no!"

Harry felt a rush of air as Buckbeak lifted into the air. He raced to around the side of the house and grabbed his faithful Firebolt, and kicked off into the snowy air in search of a camouflaged hippogriff and an invisible girl.

"Rachel-- Rachel!" he called, the snowflakes driven hard to his face by the wind.

"Harry!"

He heard his name called and looked down. Rachel, the cloak clasped at her neck and the hood lowered, was about ten feet below him. He dove and slowed so that he was just beside her, but a few feet above to avoid the upstroke of Buckbeak's wings.

"Rachel, have you lost your mind? What are you going to do, show up and start cursing Death Eaters?"
"I'm not going to stand around and let it happen again!" she called, fighting back tears. "You go back!"

"Not unless you come with me, Rachel-- I told you, they've got it under control; look! They found him and they're going to get him right now!" He motioned to the mounted riders ahead of them, black spots in the middle of the swirling white.

"You heard them, they're outnumbered! I'm going to help..."

Normally rational, Rachel seemed to have been flung beyond reason with panic. Harry tried to get her to steer Buckbeak back to Grimmauld Place, but got the same unshakable answers. Suddenly Buckbeak executed a sharp dive, and Harry followed, pulling out his wand and Disillusioning himself as he went. Apparently flying across London on hippogriff did not take very long. As he landed, Rachel pulled the roomy cloak around her and slipped the hood above her head, now totally invisible. Harry crept next to her, or next to where she ought to be. A hand appeared on his arm and he felt the cloak over him.

"I could still see you," Rachel said in a low, hoarse voice, her wand now in her hand. Harry took off the charm. They had landed far away enough from the rest of the Order to be able to walk slowly and speak softly, but remain unobserved. "You-- you don't have to--"

"I'm staying," Harry replied shortly. He wasn't going to leave her to fend for herself in this condition. "Even though I still think you should go back."

Rachel bit her lip and stole a glance at Harry. She almost stopped; Harry saw it in her eyes-- but she kept walking.

Harry looked around. They were walking through a small field of powdery snow, bordered by trees. He could see a cottage in the distance, but they were walking away from it. There were a few clusters of large rocks strewn about, but it seemed to be, by spring, a grassy meadow. A frozen pond was behind the small cottage. The Order members had Disillusioned themselves as well, but Harry saw a tree branch just in front of them bend and, after waiting a few moments, ducked into the trees, taking care not to draw any attention to himself and Rachel, and staying behind trees to hide his footprints. The thicket was not very big, and they soon came through it, turned, and followed the Order's trail along the trees, past another small house and pasture. They crossed this field as well and found themselves in another small cluster of trees, but this time, they paused at the far edge. Harry could make out a person who could be Chris peering through the foliage. He saw yet another little cottage, not much unlike the rest, save for the absence of smoke unfurling from the chimney and the dark windows. This one was had two stories and seemed roomy. Brittle remnants of dead ivy clung to the grey stone walls. Harry motioned to Rachel and they kept still, trying to make out what the Order members were doing. Moody threw constant looks behind him and Harry automatically ducked, even though he was invisible. The snow was falling in larger flakes now and he was worried about them clinging to the cloak, but the thick trees and dark night helped to hide them. Finally Rachel nudged Harry-- a few sets of footprints were making their way toward the dwelling, at least three people. Another group had taken a different route.

"A cottage, like what they were investigating... what, did they Disapparate with him and then take him back?" Harry muttered.

"I guess..."

They waited until both sets of footprints disappeared, then followed one to the back door of the place.

Harry jumped as the modest cabin suddenly exploded with noise and light. He glanced through the glass portions of the door and saw Lupin appear out of nowhere; there must be Anti-Secrecy Hexes somewhere on the walls. A masked Death Eater came at him and Lupin Stunned him in the face, but Harry could see that they were indeed outnumbered. Rachel saw the confusion and opened the door, darting in before their position could be guessed. Harry pulled her to the wall and they pressed against it, keeping away from the fray for now.

"The Anti-Secrecy Hexes don't affect the cloak," Rachel said. "We can help..."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Harry said, saying curses quietly and moving along the wall so as to help without being spotted.

"Get to the staircase-- block it off as much as you can!" a Death Eater in the middle of the room yelled.

"Go upstairs..." Rachel muttered.

"Then run!" Harry said. A Death Eater was hurrying to the walled staircase at the other side of the room; even if Harry and Rachel got in before he closed the door he would hear them on the steps.... But this Death Eater fell facedown feet in front of the stairs, Stunned in the back by Moody. Harry almost fell as they mounted the stairs, but Rachel held him up, hurrying to climb. Before Moody or anyone else could follow them, a particularly agile Death Eater leapt in front of him and slammed the door shut, jinxing it from inside over and over. Harry didn't know that many Locking Spells even existed; the door may as well have been iron to the those on the other side. Harry pulled Rachel once more against the wall as soon as they reached the upstairs, for the Death Eater hurried up past them and raced down the hall to a door at the very end of the house. Harry and Rachel hurried as well as they could under the cloak, staying on the band of carpet in the centre of the hall to avoid being identified by the snow melting off the cloak. The Death Eater stuck his head inside the unlocked door and said urgently,

"Lucius-- they're here."

"We can hear that, Taggert," came Malfoy's sarcastic voice. "See if the Dark Lord has further orders."

"I'll be right back," Taggert said shortly, and hurried away from the door, leaving it open. Rachel led Harry in; they stepped ever so carefully to avoid making a sound-- and Malfoy never noticed them. They aligned themselves along the wall and took in the scene.

There were more Death Eaters in this room, even though Harry had taken the lack of guards in the hallway to mean that they had sent every man they had downstairs to meet the Order. But around the walls of this room stood about seven more, most with their masks off. Harry recognized pockmarked Dolohov, thin Avery, and Nott, who looked gruesomely eager. Standing in the middle of the room was an unmasked Malfoy and the executioner Macnair, whose excitement was simply hideous. Harry remembered Voldemort sickeningly promising him 'better victims'. And in front of these two men, hands tied and bearing rags over his mouth and eyes, was Snape. Rachel made an impulsive move but Harry held her back.

"There are so many of them..." he breathed into her ear. "Wait a moment and see if we get a better opportunity."

Rachel was still, then nodded. Malfoy's sharp voice cut through the thin, stale air.

"Your new friends can grind away at us down there as long as they want to, but they can't make it up here," he jeered at Snape. "We can go along nice and slow as if we were never interrupted... and I expect it will be a while before you crack. Which will you do first, tell us Dumbledore's secrets or beg your master for forgiveness?" A nasty smile spread over his face. "I'd love to see either..."

Snape couldn't speak for the filthy cloth shoved in his mouth, but he stood straight and clearly scowled. He reminded Harry horribly of some wild animal, hopelessly trapped but snarling at the hunters standing over him. Malfoy raised his wand and waited for a moment, clearly enjoying the fact that Snape could not see when he was going to strike. Then he said, calmly,

"Crucio."

Snape collapsed and Harry held Rachel's shoulders. He fell on his back as every muscle in his body tightened and twitched, muffled screaming bleeding out through the cloth. Harry remembered once wishing he could perform that very curse on Snape, have him fall and convulse under his wand just as he was now under Malfoy's, and he felt sick. Rachel shuddered. Malfoy lifted the curse and Snape lay limp for a few seconds before struggling to his feet. Macnair kicked him in the stomach before he could get up and he fell back. Death Eaters laughed to see him try again to rise. They were Voldemort's inner circle, men who had probably considered themselves Snape's friends...

When Snape finally got back on his feet, Malfoy strode over to him and yanked the cloth out of his mouth, then grabbed his collar and shoved him against a wall.

"What about now?" Apparently this wasn't the first curse Snape had endured. "Anything to say yet, Severus?"

Snape did not speak.

"Well?" he insisted, shaking him.

Snape spat in his face for an answer. Harry winced. Yelling with rage, Malfoy threw Snape onto his knees and cursed him again. This time his shriek pierced the ears of everyone in the room. Rachel, her own body tense, turned her head away. Harry found himself wishing desperately that Moody and the others would find a way up.

"You filthy traitor, you know well what happens to those who betray the Dark Lord-- now experience it for yourself!" Malfoy then thrust the cloth back into Snape's mouth so hard a small amount of blood slowly coloured one edge.

"Come now, Malfoy, their screams are the best part," said a female voice from one corner. Malfoy, still breathing heavily, grinned.

"You are truly sick, Bella..." he murmured. He raised his wand to Snape again, but suddenly lowered it.

"Now, where are my manners... Walden, this is your area of expertise, is it not? I can have my fun with him later..."

"Much obliged, Lucius," Macnair said evenly, raising his own wand without taking his eyes off of Snape. Malfoy spoke again in a brisk, efficient tone.

"Now, while Macnair is-- doing what his does best-- if you would reflect on what you have accomplished as a double-agent and spy... really, now, is this quite worth it? Dumbledore had grown dependant on you, I dare say, and now that you have been exposed you can no longer infiltrate our trusted ranks with your foul disloyal intentions... and you've earned yourself a slow, painful death to boot." The Death Eaters were growing increasingly excited. Malfoy threw any threat he could think of at Snape.

"And your poor Rachel, she's all alone in the world now, isn't she?" he said in a mock-sympathetic voice, slow and thick with relish. "Pity..."

Snape let out a strangled cry of fury. Rachel was shaking, though with anger, fear, or horror, Harry couldn't tell.

"Well, you'll have plenty to think about, I'm sure... and good thing, too, for we have hours ahead of us... Walden?"

Macnair, his face shining, had opened his mouth to utter the curse when suddenly, the Death Eater called Taggert appeared in the doorway again.

"Lucius-- orders straight from our Lord," he said, panting and hurried.

"What is it?" Malfoy shot.

"He wants-- he wants him dead immediately."

Harry had no time to register this statement before Malfoy replied.

"He isn't coming to do it himself?"

Taggert looked at him with something like admiration.

"He must be extremely busy... but he wants you to do the honours."

The other Death Eaters looked at Malfoy in the same manner as the one in the doorway. Malfoy himself had an expression as if he had just given his cloak to the Pope in disguise. Slowly, he turned to face Snape, who was still standing straight.

"No..." Rachel breathed.

"Well, well... after all those times you've caused me to fail our Lord, you've finally come through for me, my old friend," Malfoy said, quietly but clearly. He raised his wand. "Such an honour... even we couldn't get any information from you... any last words, Severus?"

Snape tried to say something. By now Harry had to wrap his arms around Rachel to keep her back. He wasn't going to let her die, too.... He put one hand over her mouth and prayed no one could hear them struggling.

"We can't do it, Rachel..." Harry said. "God, I'm so sorry... we won't be able to help him, they'll kill us and then turn right back to him.... I'm so sorry, Raich-- but they're not going to get you, not like this..."

Rachel struggled fiercely against him. Malfoy turned to his fellows, now leaning against the wall like they were watching some amusing show.

"What do you think-- should we hear what he has to say?"

The Death Eaters laughed and cheered at this, so Malfoy ripped the cloth from Snape's mouth again.

"Didn't catch that, sorry?" he said quietly.

"Burn in hell, you cowards," Snape, venomously but clearly. "I'll never kiss his feet again."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"Fitting," he said coolly. Then, with a flick of his wand, he conjured more cloth to gag Snape with. Harry didn't know why, but it certainly reinforced Snape's accusation of cowardice. Rachel almost cried out. Harry had her wrists held tightly in one of his hands, and hooked his ankle around hers to keep her still, still murmuring breathlessly to calm her as they watched the horrifying spectacle in front of them. A Death Eater close to Harry turned his head curiously, but, not spotting anything, looked back at Snape. Malfoy had raised his wand again and seemed to be savouring every moment. Harry couldn't look. Please, don't make Rachel watch this... she was struggling ever harder; she was going to have to watch her father die, bound and gagged, right in front of her....

Malfoy muttered something and Snape seemed to be struggling under some unseen force. He fell to his knees, but would have been looking Malfoy straight in the eyes if he wasn't wearing the blindfold.

No, it couldn't happen like this...

"Goodbye, Severus... AVADA--"

Malfoy began to speak the deadly curse, slowly as he did everything else. It was all Harry could do to hold Rachel back, and he hated it... but she couldn't go too, no... she was worth a hundred of Snape! Harry thought frantically. No, Lupin, Moody, anybody...

"KED--"

"STUPIFY!"

Rachel's wand arm had ripped from Harry's grasp seconds before it was too late. Her green jet of light missed Malfoy's face by less than an inch. He turned, stunned, as Snape's sightless face whipped toward Harry and Rachel. It was too late to stop her now. Harry began cursing Death Eaters left and right; he had an advantage, being invisible. Once Malfoy was out he grabbed Rachel and pulled her under the cloak, then forced her to the side and down on the ground, moving constantly to avoid the Death Eaters' spells. Taggert's curse almost hit Harry, but he looked up at him and Stunned him. The rest of the Death Eaters, confused and shocked, were cursed from below and fell. The last to go was Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman Malfoy had fondly called sick. She rushed to Snape, intending either to kill him now or take him as a hostage against whoever was cursing her, but Rachel took her down easily. Lestrange had pushed Snape to the ground before fainting, and Rachel pulled away from Harry and hurried to free him.

Chapter Ten

The Value of Lives

Rachel rushed to Snape and charmed the bounds from his wrists. He pulled his arms free and yanked off his gag and blind in one motion.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said fiercely to Rachel, grabbing her by the arm. "You're going to get yourself--" Snape's breathless berating was cut short as one of his legs gave out, as Rachel's had often after her own ordeal with the Cruciatus Curse. She caught him and helped him stand. Snape's breathing was laboured, but he pushed her off. Harry pulled off the cloak and said,

"Come on, we've got to help the others and we can get out!"

Snape saw him and looked both bewildered and furious.

"Potter!"

Harry ignored him and raced down the corridor, stopping at the door.

"Will the charms still block us out from this side?" he asked, tugging on the handle.

"Move aside!" Snape said. He dragged Harry back by his collar and shoved him behind himself. "You two stay here!"

He had taken Rachel's wand. With one powerful spell the door flew open, and Harry glimpsed the front room. There were many unconscious bodies on the floor, some Order members but also many Death Eaters. Snape immediately Stunned a masked man duelling with Lupin, who had a bloody gash across one cheek.

"Severus!" he exclaimed. "You're-- Rachel? What are you-- Harry?"

Lupin looked as confused as Snape had, then almost as angry. The remaining two conscious Death Eaters tried to escape out the back door, but Moody chased after them and got them both. He, Lupin, and Tonks were the only ones conscious.

"What-- how did you two get here?" Lupin shot at Harry and Rachel. "What do you think you're doing?"

They looked at each other. Harry started to speak but Rachel cut him off.

"It's-- it's my fault," she said. "I... I panicked."

"How did you get here?" Moody demanded.

"Ah-- Buckbeak," she admitted.

"The hippogriff?" Tonks repeated disbelievingly. Lupin shook his head.

"Look, we need to get out of here before they start waking up, or sending reinforcements. Find Portkeys for the injured, anything. Harry and Rachel, come here."

Lupin took a key from his pocket.

"Where is Buckbeak?" he asked shortly.

"By the trees, where you first landed," Rachel replied in a low voice. "Harry's broomstick is there too."

"We'll have to take those back. Here. Take this."

He tapped the key and muttered 'Portus', causing it to glow blue for a second. Harry took it wordlessly and held the other end to Rachel.

"We'll discuss this at the house," Lupin muttered, looking about as angry as he ever did. "Three-- two-- one..."

Harry felt a well-known yank behind his navel and spun through a rush a thousand times faster than any broomstick. In an instant he and Rachel were standing in the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Ron, who was running by the kitchen door, did a double-take and stopped.

"Mum!" he shouted. "They're here, both of them!"

Two things happened next. Mrs. Weasley rushed to Ron's side and, upon seeing Harry and Rachel, an expression of deep relief passed over her face. An unconscious man Harry recognized as Sturgis Podmore also appeared, lying near the fireplace and holding a mostly used candle as a Portkey. Ignoring the wounded Order members appearing throughout the room, Mrs. Weasley hurried to Harry and Rachel and asked if they were all right.

"Yes, ma'am," Rachel said softly, glancing down in a subdued manner. Harry replied in the like. They both knew how Mrs. Weasley could get when she meant business. Sure enough, as soon as she was satisfied neither of them were hurt, she swelled like a flustered hen, but much more intimidating.

"Then would you mind telling me," she said in a dangerous voice, "Where in the world the two of you have been?"

More injured Order appeared, holding their brooms as Portkeys. Ron jumped to dodge Chris Connor.

Rachel cut Harry short again.

"Harry followed me," she said, putting her hand lightly over his to stop him. "I... I went after the Order."

Mrs. Weasley looked stunned for a moment. Ron had retreated to avoid being crushed, but was watching Harry and Rachel from the doorway with a expression of combined relief and worry. Snape appeared. Rachel deliberately avoided looking at him. His lip curled as he saw her. Then Lupin was standing beside Mrs. Weasley.

"We're all here, Molly," he said tiredly, before she could ask. "Tonks will be here in a moment; she's riding Buckbeak back."

"Buckbeak?" Mrs. Weasley said. Then her eyes narrowed. "Oh."

Lupin looked sharply at Harry and Rachel.

"Into the kitchen," he said. "I want a word with both of you."

Ron gulped sympathetically.

"Injuries are about what I thought, just cuts and scrapes--here," Moody added to Lupin, pointing his wand at the cut on his face and healing it instantly. "But this Ministry fellow here will need a Blood-Replenishing Potion soon... nasty Leeching Hex. Shall I take him to St. Mungo's?"

"It'll be crowded," Lupin mused, marching Harry and Rachel to the door. "And if anybody hears the words 'Death Eaters' there'll be panic. We keep a stock of potion supplies here; do you think we have enough to make one?"

"It's all here," Snape said, his voice an interesting mix of sharpness and exhaustion. "I'll make it."

"Are you up to it?" Moody asked gruffly.

"Of course," Snape snapped, getting closer to normal. "Can you tell where to cut a serpent nettle without losing a hand?"

Moody shrugged. "Fair point."

Lupin sat Harry across from him at the table, and Rachel beside him. Moody and Snape stood getting the potion ready behind Lupin.

"Harry..." Lupin started, covering his eyes with one hand. "How many times do we have to do this?" Harry didn't reply. His voice was hard and frustrated. "I know you don't like to see anybody get hurt, and you don't like to stand by when things happen-- but getting yourself killed isn't going to help anything!"

"I know, just--"

"You don't, Harry!" Lupin said angrily. Harry had never seen him like this before. "Am I getting through to you at all? This keeps happening, time and time again-- you're going to get hurt, and then where will we be?" Harry looked down at the table. Rachel glanced at him and Lupin.

"Please," she said quietly. "Harry was trying to get me to come back, I-- I lost my head and he tried to get me back here..."

Lupin looked seriously at her.

"I know," he said. "Look, both of you-- and this goes for Ron and Hermione, too-- it's commendable that you want to help us against Voldemort. But you're not Order members yet. You're our responsibility, and if you get in the middle of things it's another burden on the Aurors there. I know your motives," Lupin added. "But you're underage and we can't let you risk yourselves like this yet. And Harry--"

Lupin broke off and glanced at Rachel.

"Ah-- Rachel, can I speak to Harry for a moment?"

Rachel looked at Harry. She seemed horribly guilty. Harry muttered, "It's okay..." With another look at Lupin's expression, she slowly rose and left the room, still not looking at Snape, to face Mrs. Weasley and a newly awoken Chris. Harry wondered what Lupin couldn't say in front of her.

"Harry," he continued in a wearied, lower voice. "This just can't keep happening... I'm disappointed in you. You know about the prophecy, now! If you can't face Voldemort, then--"

He didn't need to finish. Harry bit his lip.

"But if-- Rachel hadn't been there with the cloak..."

Harry took a fleeting look up at Snape, who continued to brew the potion without so much as batting an eye at the mention of how he was, minutes ago, almost as good as tortured to death. Lupin, however, closed his eyes.

"People die in wars, Harry," he said in an even softer voice. He looked Harry in the face.

"And it's a risk we're all prepared to face."

Harry opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say. He stuttered uncertainly for a moment. Lupin leaned against the table.

"You have to realize this, Harry! If you can't fight Voldemort, then all of this will have been in vain! Even if you're the only thing between someone, even someone completely innocent, and death... get an Order member, or run for help... I know it's hard to stand by and let things like this happen, but you have to act for the greater good here-- you must see that!"

Harry frowned. He didn't like to think of himself as worth more than everyone else just because of some stupid prophecy. Lupin rephrased.

"Look... I'm not saying you have to sacrifice other people to save yourself. I know that isn't right. And I don't know what's going to happen, or... how it will feel at the time..." he searched for words. Harry didn't even know what to think. Objectively, if he truly was the only one with 'the power to vanquish the Dark Lord', and he got himself killed, then the world would be at the non-existent mercy of Voldemort. Then he remembered the feeling of realizing an irrational and panicked Rachel had taken off to fight numerous Death Eaters. His mind flashed to the room Snape was being held in; if he hadn't been there to pull her back under the Invisibility Cloak he still held and fire spells at the Death Eaters, unseen, then she would have been killed. Rachel would have been killed. Or tortured as ransom against him again... but if he, Harry, had been caught, he would have been delivered straight to Voldemort, probably before the Order even knew he was gone. Irregardless of what Professor Trelawney had predicted years ago, he did not feel in any way prepared to battle and defeat Voldemort... not yet. He raked his hands through his hair in confused frustration.

"We're not... completely powerless," Lupin finally said. "I know it seems slow waiting around for help, but it is the best thing you can do, Harry. Don't let us down rushing off and risking everything... I know it's hard, but you have to think of these things, I can't emphasize it enough.... You have to think like the Auror you're going to be one day."

Harry looked up.

"I'm sure you see it. How important this is. And I'm equally sure you'll be able to help without risking everything. The way you raised the alarm when Sirius... when it seemed Sirius was in trouble..."

Lupin looked away for a moment at the thought of his friend. Harry had no trouble blocking the rise of pain that came with his name; it was now reflexive.

"That's how you can help us. Harry-- you must understand. You can't risk everything like this."

Harry stared ahead. Lupin obviously wanted him to speak. Finally, he did.

"I hadn't thought of it like that."

How could he just let someone so close to him, as most Order members were, just go to their deaths without at least trying to help them? But then... Voldemort.... And the sudden pressure of realizing he was the world's only hope against him, as far as anyone could see, didn't help.

Lupin looked hard at Harry.

"I hope it won't ever come down to a flat-out choice. But if it does, just keep your head; get me... Harry."

Harry looked up.

"You're not a coward." he said with absolute surety. "Or a false friend. You can help by alerting us, especially when you know things we don't... like that night with Sirius. And," he said, as Harry tried to look away. "You will fight him one day," he added seriously. "That's the greatest way to help anyone who's in danger because of Voldemort."

Harry let this sink into him, then nodded dumbly. Lupin crossed his arms and neither of them spoke.

"Come on," Lupin finally said, shaking his head tiredly. "It's late."

Harry got up. Snape and Moody had already left with the potion. It occurred to Harry that Snape had been awfully subdued, refraining from his usual acidic remarks about Harry's supposed hero complex and hotheadedness. When they reached the doorway, he was leaning against the wall over the Auror who needed the medicine, eyes closed and shoulders slumped. His brows were knitted with his usual faint scowl, but he did not look up or curl his lip disdainfully as Harry and Lupin passed him. His face was still smudged with dirt and a bit of dried blood. Lupin put a hand on Harry's shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs.

"I know it'll be hard, and you'll wrestle with yourself a lot," he murmured. "But I also have faith in you. I don't think you're going to let us down."

Harry looked back at him for a moment, then nodded.

"Thanks," he muttered through a dry throat. Lupin squeezed his shoulder gently and watched him climb the stairs.

When Harry reached the hallway where the bedrooms were, Ron was waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, standing up. "What happ-- are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said without really thinking. "I'm just-- I sort of want to get to bed, okay?"

Ron looked at his face and nodded quickly.

"Yeah... alright."

Rachel appeared at her doorway.

"Harry... look, I-- I'm so sorry, I... I could have gotten you really hurt..."

Harry waved her apology away.

"It's fine, it's fine..." he said distractedly. She looked at him like Ron had.

"Really..."

"I know!" He was confused and frustrated and wanted to think. "It's... it's okay, really." He managed to soften his voice a bit. Rachel hesitated for a moment, but didn't say anything, for which Harry was grateful.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said, desperately wanting to calm his thoughts, alone.

He slipped in the dark, cold bedroom, leaving Ron and Rachel to glance at each other, and then at his blank door. Inside, Harry lay down without bothering to change as his stormy thoughts and emotions raged at each other inside his head like the howling wind outside his window.