Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 33 - The Final Passing

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On the wall, in the portrait opposite his bed, the four masters performed. The viola, cello, and two violins were, as always, played with perfection even when the notes didn't seem quite right. The piece, Mozart's Dissonance Quartet, was apropos, he thought, and each note that hung in the air helped to soothe his soul. That they played at all hours in an effort to calm his nerves was a blessing he could never repay - particularly now, in his final hours.

There was a bright orange flutter; he watched as a feather slowly fell to the floor. He knew, before it struck, and he grabbed the sheets of his bed tightly, steeling himself. The room exploded with a thunderous clap and it felt as if a symbol had been slammed against each ear, squashing his head between with a tremendous crash. His mind seized, splintering the pain like shards of glass that raced down to his fingers and toes, shredding every nerve along their way. Since Christmas, he'd been having good times and bad times. This was not a good time.

Albus Dumbledore slowly took in a long, deep breath, and exhaled, trying to find some moment of rest in the night's darkness. His magic had been fragmenting and what he once was able to control and focus with tremendous might was now scattered and, in the worst of times, dangerous to any around him. He heard someone, the portrait of Dilys Derwent, offer him warm assurances as she prodded him to rest and he tried to oblige, rolling on to his right side and curling into a ball with his pillow held in both hands and his knees caressing his elbows.

Raising his head slightly, Albus focussed on the lone candle in his room, flickering in the corner and, without saying a word, thought the incantation to extinguish it. If anything, the flame grew larger. He cursed his ineptitude under his breath and laid his head back onto his pillow. He sighed; the candle sputtered and went out. How had it come to this?

"Goodnight, Dylis," he whispered glumly as he closed his eyes, hoping that his episode had passed, but knowing that, even if it had, he would not sleep, not tonight. As he shifted on his perch, Fawkes sang a soft tune that blended seamlessly with the strings. Another feather fell to the floor, but this time its meeting with the hardened wood below went unnoticed. Instead, Albus held his eyes shut, but his mind open, expanding his consciousness outward, across the castle. It was a night time stroll he often performed with his mind and, even now, he used it to keep his mental faculties as sharp as they would allow.

The darkness was here, he knew that, but how or where, he hadn't the strength to discover what would reveal itself soon enough. Acknowledging his own inability, he let his mind turn to Harry and there it stayed for some time, resting in the confidence that the young wizard would be ready when the time came. "Yes... ready," he muttered to himself, shifting beneath the sheets. Then doubt crept in...

Really? Do you think so?

Yes.

You thought his parents were ready too, didn't you?... Didn't you?... But they died. And now you place your decrepit hopes in the strength of their child! He's a boy, Albus!

They weren't much older.

And they died!

It's not the same! His skill without a wand. His experience facing Voldemort.

They faced him too... three times!

His gifts. The blessings. This will be different. You don't understand.

I don't understand? Me? That's comical. I understand everything all too well, but then so do you, don't you? Where is he, Albus? Where is he now? How could you let him go, when you know... you know that within these walls--

I'm too tired for this.

Then die and get it over wi--

There was a gentle rapping upon a distant door. It opened. Albus had no inclination to get up to see who it was. He already knew.

"Professor? Professor, you said it was urgent." The voice of Remus Lupin made its way from Dumbledore's office. Fawkes called out, saving his master the strength of doing so himself. The music stopped and Albus heard the door to his bedroom creak open. Still, he did not move, but merely opened his eyes to stare toward the empty chair at the side of his bed. Remus moved to sit in it. Their eyes met and Dumbledore smiled, blinking.

"Welcome," he whispered. "Would you like some tea?" Without saying another word, a teapot and cup appeared at the table beside the chair in which Remus sat. "Just one lump, I recall." And a small cube of sugar appeared with a spoon. Yes, he was tired, but he would never be considered an ungracious host, or maybe he just wanted to prove to himself, his doubting self, that his strength was surging forward again, if only for the time being.

"So tell me, Remus," began Albus, his blue eyes twinkling, "have the rumours leaked out that you'll soon be the new headmaster at Hogwarts?"

"They have," answered Remus, dryly.

"And have you now come to take your place of honour?"

"You know, of course, that most everyone believes you've gone mad," said Remus. Then a thin smile creased his lips. "Fortunately, if you can call it that, Arthur Weasley has kept the idea of a werewolf at Hogwarts alive at the Ministry. If there's a plan to kill the future headmaster of Hogwarts, then you've set the bull's-eye squarely on my back. Although, the rightful target might be a bit more suited at protecting himself than am I."

"Yes," answered Albus, "I'm sorry about that, but then I'm sure he's enough to be getting on with about now." Remus nodded and took a sip of tea. For a moment, Albus' mind drifted to all the lives lost that had offered their service upon his advice. He wasn't very proud of the number - some of the finest witches and wizards that he had ever known.

Like Lilly and James.

Nor, did he take satisfaction in counting the number of lives saved.

It was Ron that saved the Longbottoms, not you.

Suddenly, he was quite tired again.

"Does anyone else know you're here?" he asked.

"I had been expecting Severus to meet me at the entrance," said Remus with some bit of concern. His voice was quiet, but nervous. "I'm sorry I'm late. There's some disturbing news coming from Greece. I only received half of Sirius' last message. It sounds like the Carpathians all over again. I don't like it. The Centaurs have been losing ground and dragons have been seen in the area. I don't understand it at all. The last time I spoke with Antreas, he told me that the dragons had no interest in a war that didn't concern them. I'd go to the castle, but Harry's somehow made it unplottable. And now, I hear, the boy has gone to enter the fray. He believes Voldemort is searching for his son... Harry's son." Albus shifted on the bed, and Remus noticed. "How long have you known, Headmaster?"

Albus looked into Remus' eyes. It didn't take a Legilimens to know that the man seated beside him was looking to get a reaction. He sat up in his bed, pushing the pillow against the headrest and then leaned back against it. Another cup appeared on the table, the teapot poured more tea by itself, and the cup floated over to Albus' hands. He took a sip.

"Our Harry's no longer a boy anymore is he, Remus?" said Albus, and then he took another sip of tea. A tinge of concern crossed the right side of his face, but he pushed it aside. He'd hoped this news would be held more tightly. "Who told you?"

"Hermione Granger," said Remus, leaning forward. "Earlier this evening. And there's more, Albus. She doesn't believe that Voldemort has left Hogwarts as you had suspected."

Albus grumbled to himself. He should have known who before he asked the question - a sign that his powers were slipping. Of course Hermione would turn to Remus for help. Who else was there? Minerva didn't exactly evoke a motherly persona. He was weary, but moved to sit at the edge of his bed. Remus came to assist and he defensively pushed him away.

"I am not an invalid!" he snapped, trying to untangle his bedclothes from about his ankle. He regretted his actions almost at once, but chose not to apologize. He held out his hand and summoned his wand without speaking. Then, he blasted the bit of cloth still trapped about his foot, releasing it and letting it fall to the floor at the side of the bed.

"Better," he whispered, looking down at his bare feet and wondering if, perhaps, he should have worn socks to bed. The evening was, after all, a bit chilled and, what with the fire unlit, his bones were--

"Forgive me, Professor." Remus interrupted Albus' train of thought. How long had his mind been wandering? "About Voldemort... I fear he may still be within the castle walls."

"Fear, Remus? There's nothing to fear. And... yes, he is within the castle walls. Hermione was right to be concerned; the brightest witch I--"

"You knew?" said Remus, rising to his feet. "Why in Merlin's--"

There was a sharp knock at the door outside followed by a louder, more emphatic pounding. Albus closed his eyes and took in another breath. It was all happening too soon. He was supposed to be ready, to still have his powers in full command. He wasn't supposed to be some doddering, old--

"Shall I open the door, sir?" Remus asked irritably. It was clear Remus felt confused, and there was some part of Albus that enjoyed knowing that he still had the upper hand. He would keep it that way... for awhile.

"Enter, Severus," Albus muttered quietly and the door flew open. There was a hurried sound of footsteps and then a swirl of black issued through Albus' bedroom door - always the dramatist. Snape's eyes were wide and concerned. He took one look over at Remus, who now stood, and the side of his lip curled just a bit.

"Professor... Lupin," drawled Snape, slowly and deliberately with just the faintest tilt of his head. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe we have a... situation."

"Severus," said Albus with a sigh, "certainly, by now, you know that you may speak openly in front of our future headmaster." Snape blanched slightly at the word.

"Do you think that wise, sir? I'm not sure we can trust..."

"A werewolf?" snapped Remus. "Is that it, Severus? You can't stand that I'm here speaking with Professor Dumbledore about the future of this school. You think, maybe, you should be Headmaster?" Remus stepped forward to face Snape. "Is that it?"

"More than one within these walls has fallen prey to the Imperius curse, Remus," countered Snape in a very steady tone. His calmness only angered Remus more. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but your skills at Legilimency are not as foolproof as they once were."

"Which puts into question where your loyalties lay, Severus," said Remus, before Albus could answer.

"Enough!" cried Albus, rising to his feet and suddenly appearing more dangerous than ever. "Severus, you have something you wish to say, say it!"

"It appears that Patrick O'Riley has been under Lord Voldemort's control, at least since he was last seen leaving the Forbidden Forest."

"The Imperious you just spoke of?" asked Remus.

"No," answered Severus, and then he held the silence to add import to his following words. "He was under the control of Lord Voldemort, possessed of mind and body. Sometime, within the last hour, Voldemort has found another host."

"So he never tried to escape, once he was forced to flee Gabriella's body," asserted Remus. Albus stepped over to a basin that filled with water and he splashed his face, as Snape began to ring his hands.

"What's more," added Snape, "Mr. Potter has left the school to fight Voldemort, believing that the Dark Lord is leading the attack upon his godfather in Greece. So typical," he breathed. "What's worse, he has some misguided intention to bring back a rescue party to Hogwarts, believing it safer."

"We need to warn him," said Remus.

"It is safer," asserted Albus proudly. For a moment, he almost believed it true himself.

"Professor, you can't mean that!" said Remus moving closer to the headmaster. Then he turned to Snape in some hope that he might agree, but Snape didn't come to his aid. Then Remus said, "Do you know where Voldemort is, Severus? Who is the new host?"

For the first time in days, things began to clear in Dumbledore's mind. He knew what Snape was about to say, before he said it, and the regained power caused his lips to smile with satisfaction. The others took it as a discordant expression.

"He's taken over another student, Remus," said Snape. "Hermione Granger or her fiancé, Ron Weasley... probably the boy."

"WHAT?" cried Remus.

Ignoring the outburst, Snape continued. "They should be speaking with Minerva at any moment. I suggest we--"

"You let them walk off!" Remus cut in.

"What would you have me do? I tried to see which one was possessed, but was unable. If I had prodded further, Voldemort would have left none alive - that's not a sacrifice I was willing to take."

"Who? Your life or the student's?"

"Silence," snapped Albus. He'd heard enough. He knew what needed to be done, but for the first time in a long time he questioned the outcome. He stepped over to his clothes-closet and the door opened by itself. An instant later, he was adorned in an ornate, red robe. It had once been worn by Gryffindor, and Albus felt it a fitting way to end his tenure at Hogwarts. He took his first step toward the door, unsteadily. Remus moved to help him, but Albus pushed him away.

The elderly wizard stepped out into the office and walked over to a large silver instrument that had stars flying about it, some red, some white, and some green. He tapped it once with the side of his wand. The field of stars rotated into a new orientation. Each point of light represented a witch or wizard that Albus had been tracking through the year. The new orientation was now centred over Greece. He watched as the pinpricks of light representing Lucius and his son Malfoy continued to slide down from the north of the country. They commanded a great host of Dementors and a tingle of concern ran up Albus' back. Harry's faith in Draco was commendable, but Albus wasn't so certain.

The Dementors the Malfoy's commanded needed to be destroyed. They had multiplied far beyond their natural number; some black magic was at work. The Centaurs had no chance to survive the onslaught, and the number of wizards willing to battle was insufficient, once matched against the supporting Death Eaters. There was only one hope for success - dragon fire. But Remus was correct when he quoted Antreas; the creatures cared little of what Dementors destroyed so long as they did not cross dragon boundaries. Since the Carpathians, the Dementors moved with the knowledge of what had happened to their number there. In Greece, the Dementor army took care to stay away from dragon territory. Albus had tried to sway Grigor to call for the help of the dragons, but he had refused. Nonetheless, Albus was well aware of how the war was irritating the dragons. All it would take would be one small match to call them to service - Harry.

He tapped the side of the instrument once more and it shifted over Italy. There he saw two white lights in Apparation toward Greece. Harry had to complete this mission, even if he didn't know what it was. That, unfortunately, left the castle at risk; Albus knew all too well the prophecy. With Harry in Europe, Albus would have to face Voldemort without hope of winning. But then, what, really, does winning mean? With another tap, all the lights flickered out. Albus turned to face Remus and Severus.

"Remus, you must go to Hogsmeade," he said. Remus began to object, but Albus flashed him a glare that made him feel as if he were back in school. "If the rescue party arrives, we must be prepared to act quickly. You mustn't bring Harry's child to the castle; it's not safe. Instead, go to the forest, to the Centaurs. I'll send word to Magorian."

"Magorian?" Remus cried. "Why would he--"

"Because with you will be the child of their Chosen," Albus interrupted. "He will ensure you are safe, for now."

For how long, Albus did not know. Soon, the board upon which each of them played would change. The armies of Greece would focus back to Great Britain. Hogwarts would become a battle ground. There was only one thing about which Albus was certain - no matter the outcome of that battle, the war would be over, for better, or for worse.

"Go on, go on," said Albus, shuffling Remus out of his office. "Even should the Centaurs fail, within the forest are powers that will move to protect you. Find Hagrid... Have him escort you to Terntalag."

"Professor," implored Remus. "You haven't the strength."

"I have strength enough for this."

When the werewolf was gone, Albus moved to Fawkes and stroked the Phoenix's feathers. "Soon, it will be my turn to burst into flame. Will you send for me one last message, my old friend?" He summoned a small roll of parchment and imprinted a message upon it without saying a word. "Find Dakhil and bring him back. Do not take no as an answer." There was a tremendous flash of fire and the bird had gone. Suddenly, Albus felt dizzy and his balance began to falter. Severus held him by the arm until the sensation past.

"Headmaster," said Severus dryly, "do you think it wise to trust the fate of Hogwarts upon a werewolf, a vampire and a Death Eater? If we should fail, the history books will point to your decision to entrust the three of us as the reason for our downfall."

"And when we succeed, Severus. What then?"

"They'll say you were a genius, and hate us just as much."

Albus shook his head. "Severus, your attitude has been your--" A flash of fire filled the room. There, near Albus' desk, stood Dakhil Barghouti with a small, featherless Fawkes cupped in his hands. Offering only the smallest of nods toward Severus and Albus, he walked the bird to its perch and set it gently down. He stroked the bird's bare head.

"I thought the boy was to handle this," he said sullenly, his back still toward Albus.

"Harry is... preoccupied," said Albus with the smallest of chuckles. Dakhil spun to face him.

"Is this some sort of game to you, Dumbledore? Every moment that that stupid comet hangs in the sky, every second that passes where Centaur and Dementor battle, Singehorn grows irritated by what he sees as petty bickering. That wizards have taken sides... Arrgh! You know what happened before!" Dakhil's eyes were on fire, but Albus took no offence.

"That is why we must act now, Dakhil, before it is too late. He's here, and he's not as strong while possessing another."

"This was not Soseh's vision," said Dakhil sternly.

"No, but it is mine," answered Albus, and in that moment his stature rose and he looked down upon Dakhil without his half-mooned spectacles. Dakhil's eyes did not flinch.

"Without me there to sway his thoughts, Singehorn will take matters to the next level. Are you prepared to live with the consequences?"

Albus' thoughts rolled to those earlier in the evening. How many more must die? Then, almost reflexively, laughter burst forth. "Live?" he said sardonically. "If I'm not mistaken, none of us in this room plans to live much longer, or am I mistaken?" His eyes scanned Dakhil and Severus; each held his gaze with pride. "Good, then we are agreed. No one is to warn Harry." He tightened the scarlet cloak about his shoulders.

"And you Severus, will he trust you still? Does he yet suspect?"

"Upon her life, Minerva would never show him the letter I sent her. He will wonder, but he won't know. Leave that to me, Headmaster. In the end, he will have no choice but to trust me."

"And are you prepared?"

"Longbottom provided me with the two identical roots just last week. He grew them in the caverns by the light of fireflies. Amazing, really. I would never have dreamed..." Severus took a deep breath and exhaled. "The potion is ready," he said, patting the left breast pocket of his robes.

"Good... good," said Albus. His heart was beginning to race with anticipation of what they were about to do. "Let's--"

"Professor!" cried one of the portraits. "Minerva, she's under attack!"

"Damn!" cursed Snape. "She didn't have her wand."

"Quickly!" said Dumbledore, not moving toward the front door, but, rather, toward a large dressing mirror that stood in his bedroom.

"After over 60 years, I have a learned many things within these stone walls and still this castle holds secrets it may never share with me."

"So it is with dragons, Headmaster," replied Dakhil.

Without saying another word to the others, Albus jumped through the mirror and appeared into the corridor leading to McGonagall's office. A moment later, the other two appeared as well. Still quite early in the morning, a few students had been roused by the large explosions that had taken place. A group of ten to fifteen stood nervously outside McGonagall's office, its door shut. Smoke was billowing out through the crack at the top of the door, while water seeped out through the crack at the bottom. Most of the students were unwilling to approach the door, but two students kept casting various spells in an effort to open it - James Chang and Luna Lovegood. James was about to, physically, take another run at the door, when Albus called for him to stop.

"Stand aside, Mr. Chang," he commanded. The students all plastered themselves to the walls of the corridor as Albus, Dakhil and Severus moved forward, but James stayed at the door.

"Is it true what they say, Professor?" James asked. "Has he taken Ron now? Is he in there... Voldemort?"

"Yes," answered Albus, stepping in front of James. Albus reached for his wand.

"Then he's only used the killing curse," asserted James knowingly.

"And how would you know that, Mr. Chang?" drawled Severus.

"Because his wand's cursed, Professor. Ron's is anyway." James quickly became agitated and uncomfortable. "I was sleeping and... somehow... remembered. When I went to Gryffindor, the Fat Lady said he'd left. Then I heard the explosion." James' fists rolled into a ball. "It was... I did it, when he was me... in me... on the train. He knew Ron would never use a killing curse. It's supposed to explode if he uses a stunner. He was hoping Harry might be nearby."

"Explode?" snapped Snape. James nodded without holding the professor's gaze.

"It should kill him," he muttered to the floor. "And anyone nearby." The three professors exchanged looks.

"We can use this to our advantage," said Dakhil.

"Knowledge is power," said Albus brightly. He held his wand against the door. The resultant tingling in his fingers ran down his forearm and stopped.

"Tom was in a hurry, when he shut this door," he whispered to himself. "Sloppy. Maybe he's being sloppy about other things as well." He tapped the door with his wand and whispered, "Domito!"

The door swung open and water gushed out into the corridor. Inside, everything was drenched, but various pieces of wood continued to smoulder, sending an acrid smoke into the air. Albus stepped forward; the office was a disaster. In the centre was a large oak desk, tumbled to one side. Few would notice the marking on the desk's back matched the embroidery of Professor McGonagall's evening shawl.

"Minerva," he gasped, running to the desk. When he touched it, Professor McGonagall transformed back. The left side of her body was badly burned, but she was still alive. When he repositioned Minerva onto her back, her eyes opened and she began to cough.

"Hermione," she gasped. "He's got... the girl." Her finger pointed to the room behind her office. Normally, there would be a door there, but now some band of darkness had sealed it shut. Dakhil called for James and Luna to take Professor McGonagall to the hospital wing. Luna levitated her off the floor and James helped guide her through the doorway.

"Don't worry, Professor," said Luna calmly to McGonagall as they made their way out into the corridor. "With all this business about dragons, my dad just discovered that Skrewt manure makes a wonderful burn salve. Jeanie!" she called to one of the Ravenclaw second years. "Go into my trunk and get out the big brown burlap sack." Jeanie took off in a run. "It's the one with the oozing green stuff on the outside!" Luna called after her. Minerva groaned, but Albus didn't think it was because she was in pain.

For the briefest of moments, he smiled to himself. Such joys always happened in the twinkling of an eye and, if one were not vigilant, they could slip by unnoticed. He drew strength from that joy and turned to face the band of darkness now baring their way.

"This may prove more difficult," he said softly. Again he touched the darkness with his wand. There was a flash of pain, and then glaring red eyes.

"I'm not finished," whispered a cold, high voice. The vision vanished, leaving Albus in front of the door again.

"This is my house, Tom," said Albus defiantly at the entryway. "Here, we play by my rules." He looked back at Dakhil and Severus. "Prepare yourselves," he said with a voice that was itself cold and empty. "Dakhil, take care of the girl. If we succeed, you know what must be done." Dakhil bent down, tapped a piece of trash and, without touching it, levitated it to an inner pocket in his robes. "Severus?" Snape removed the stopper from his vial and drank the thick, black liquid inside.

"My friends, this may be our only chance," said Albus with the voice of a soldier about to send his troops into a battle he knows they cannot win. "Whatever the cost, he must never touch Harry's boy." He slipped his wand into his robes. "Tell Harry--"

There was a scream from within. Forgetting what he was about to say, Albus placed his hands on the stone wall. He whispered a few incantations and then, as if he were a ghost, his hands melted into the wall. He took one last look back at the wizards standing beside him, a twinkle sparked in his eye, and he disappeared completely into the stone. Suddenly, the walls sparkled bright, glowing with tremendous ferocity. Albus had become the walls and the two wizards watched as the glow spread from one side of the room to the other. Soon, the glow enveloped the doorway. They waited in anticipation. Albus made his way, slowly spreading across Professor McGonagall's bedroom like an inkblot on white linen.

Hermione lay unconscious on McGonagall's bed, her clothes torn from her body. Ron, or rather Voldemort, was slipping on his robes, oblivious to the glow enveloping him; it was a light of goodness that he was blind to. When Albus had sealed the room, he concentrated his energy on the doorway and sundered the spell blocking the entrance.

Dakhil ran in first. With the instincts of a cat, Voldemort reached for his wand and green light erupted, striking the vampire squarely in the chest. Nothing happened.

"I expected more," said Dakhil with a scratchy voice that was almost scolding. Before Voldemort could react, Dakhil had jumped upon Hermione. He reached into his robes for the Portkey he'd just made and the two vanished.

"A vampire," said Voldemort with a disinterested sneer. "Pah, I was done anyway." He stepped to the doorway just as Snape entered. Voldemort didn't notice, but the dark bands had now been replaced with glowing ones.

"My lord?" asked Snape, uncertainty seeping through his expression. "Is it... is it really you?"

Voldemort reached for his wand, but Snape made no effort to protect himself. Just as Voldemort was about to cast his spell, the walls, the floor, the cracked and broken ceiling began to shake violently.

"I... have... you... both!" cried the stones in a low baritone voice that rumbled like thunder.

"Parlour tricks don't scare me, Dumbledore," said Voldemort, looking around with concern. He stepped toward the doorway, but found it sealed. He cast multiple spells at it, and still he could not pass. Then his wand turned to Snape. "What is this trickery?"

"Did you both think you could fool me," the stones rumbled again, "within my own castle walls? Now you're both mine!"

"I came as quickly as I could, my lord," implored Snape. "I followed the--"

"Crucio!"

Snape began to scream in agony, but the screams were short lived. Voldemort was more concerned about the box he was in. The fact that he left Snape alive made the walls glow more brightly, a brightness he still could not see.

The walls shook again, only this time they began to move inward, making the room smaller.

"Your end is at hand Tom; there is no escape," they rumbled. Then they shuddered, "You will both pay for your deceit."

Voldemort glared at Snape as dust and pebbles rained down upon their heads. "Is he in the walls?" he yelled, his voice growing a bit more unsteady. Snape, still curled on the floor, nodded his head. Voldemort cast a killing curse at the walls. A few stones shattered, spraying debris everywhere, but the walls continued to move inward. Voldemort cast another curse, then another and another. Still, nothing happened. He was so intent upon the wall moving toward him, that he didn't see Snape muttering a shield charm and moving away, as far away as he possibly could.

At last, Voldemort stopped and just glared at the wall. Frustrated and desperate he yelled, "STUPEFY!" The ten inches of ash exploded, throwing Ron against the far wall with a sickening crack.

The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Snape stood up and placed the side of his face flat against the wall.

"Guide him to the falls, Severus," said Albus. "Make him believe."

Severus nodded and walked over to the crumpled heap on the floor. Ron's eyes were open, his legs twisted in an unnatural way and most of his right arm was gone. Snape watched and waited. What should have been instantaneous, was taking far longer than either Snape or Albus anticipated. After a moment, Snape began to bend down next to Ron to see if, perhaps, he was mistaken. It wasn't until he touched the side of Ron's neck that a thin green smoke began to billow out of the young wizard's open mouth. At once, Snape fell to one knee.

"My lord," he whispered with bowed head. The smoke swirled about him once, as if sniffing for a trap, but then entered Snape.

From brick and mortar, Albus watched as Snape rose to his feet and turned to face the wall. There, before him, Snape's black eyes turned red. He pulled his wand and an expression of pure rage spread across his face. He pointed the wand at Ron's lifeless body.

"Dare try to take me with you!" Snape kicked Ron in the side like a sack of potatoes. Then, he moved to cast a spell and the room shuddered again, closing in yet tighter. Snape withdrew his wand.

"There's still time, Dumbledore, if you still have the strength. Want to trade? Will you let me go to save this boy, or will you choose to let his spirit forever haunt the girl he loves so dearly?" He chuckled in a high cold voice. "Though I doubt she'll love him hence."

There was a large snap at the doorway as Albus released the spell at the entrance. Snape tapped the area once with his wand, and then ran away, disappearing into the outer corridor.

Albus pulled away from the walls and reappeared in corporeal form next to Ron. The old wizard's knees were weak, and his scarlet red robes were torn and scorched. He ignored the commotion in the outer office as he placed his hand on Ron's forehead and then closed the boy's blank eyes. He slipped his wand from his robes and began to mutter the incantation he had used to save Harry the year before. This... this would be more difficult, but it was the only thing that could be done, if there was still time.

The clatters and screams from outside fell away as Albus probed inward, searching for Ron's life force. It was not unlike Legilimency, but finding the delicate threads of life from one so near death was much more difficult. Hoping for some sign of life, he expected to see not but darkness, when a glowing tentacle of pure energy whipped around from nowhere, grabbing his own life force by the throat. It was the first time Albus had been truly stunned in nearly seventeen years.

"You're going with me, Voldemort!"

It was Ron's will, his mind fighting to hold on to the darkness that had controlled him. That explained what had taken Voldemort so long to emerge from Ron's body. Ron knew he was dying and had tried to take Voldemort's life with him. If it hadn't been for Snape's touch, providing just enough life energy for Voldemort to escape, Ron might have been successful. Even now, nearing the terminus of this plane, Ron's energy was formidable. If Albus wasn't careful, they might both be lost.

"It's me, Mr. Weasley," he gasped, choosing not to struggle against Ron's entangling snare. "Professor Dumbledore."

"You think I'm a fool?" Ron's voice echoed from the darkness beyond. Albus could tell that, this time, the voice was fainter. Ron's energy was moving away.

"Mr. Weasley, only I know why you're hoarding socks. Not even Hermione knows that, does she?" The grip about Albus' neck slackened.

"Professor?"

"Voldemort has escaped; I've come to save you." Albus held out his hands and the darkness erupted with green flame that spread outward in all directions.

"No!" cried Ron. "NO! You can't! Not after what I've done. I won't go back."

Spreading, reaching, the flame finally touched Ron's life energy and Albus sensed at once that it was somewhere above and to his left. In this realm of nothingness, a vast desert between life and death, he saw a golden light flickering at the edges of the expanding green flame. He reached out with all his strength to take hold, but it resisted, pulling away. Albus' own energy surged outward and away. He might be able to try one more time. If he failed, they'd both be dead.

"Mr. W-- Ronald Weasley," his tone was deliberately scolding. "What would your mother say? Do you think, when you slip into her arms on the other side, that she will greet you with warmth and affection? She might apply a properly placed switch of hickory, if she has one ready. Do you think she died fighting Voldemort so that you could simply run away? Will she introduce you to Godric as a fine example of bravery and loyalty to his friends?"

"But--"

"I don't care what that filth made you do. Your friends will always love you. Hermione needs you. Harry needs you. We all need you, now more than ever. Will you turn your back on all Hogwarts? Dying is the easy part; living is the greatest risk of all."

The golden glow flickered and then flamed bright. Albus knew Ron was trying to return and, in that instant, reached out again with one last, great surge of energy, giving all of himself to ensure success. Their life forces united and Albus pulled him close, infusing Ron's energy with his own.

For a moment, surrounded by a glimmering green glow, the two wizards met face-to-face in the plane between life and death. Albus took one of Ron's hands and then waved his other revealing a passageway, rimmed in luminous alabaster. "Your destiny lies beyond that door, Mr. Weasley. Your mother will be proud. I'm sure Godric will never hear the end of it." Albus' face beamed, but Ron's was frightened and his shoulders slumped.

"I'll never be able to face her," he whispered as his anxious eyes stared warily at the door.

"Ms. Granger?" said Albus kindly. "She could not live knowing that she might have done something to prevent your death."

"There's nothing she could have done!" snapped Ron.

"Then tell her that," said Albus. "And when you do, look in the mirror and say the same thing to yourself - there's nothing you could have done." The aged wizard felt his life force ebbing away and his hand slipped from Ron's. "Through the door, Mr. Weasley."

"Professor!" cried Ron. "Wait! You can't--"

"And tell Harry..." interrupted Albus as he began to fade into the dimming flames of green, "...tell Harry that I'm sorry, but all I ever did was out of love."

"But--"

"And Ron, tell him not to worry. He'll make a wonderful father... as will you."

The distance between the two wizards stretched to infinity, and Albus could feel the last threads of life slip away. Still, he held fast to the earthly realm until he was certain: Slowly, Ron moved toward the rim of alabaster, passed through the door and returned into the brightness of life. Satisfied, Albus smiled and turned to face the brightness now waiting to greet him.