The Wrought Iron Witch

-CHAPTER ONE-

Another Any Day

Raindrops were drumming violently against the bedroom window. The small room seemed to be even tinier than usual, because now, not just one, but two big heavy trunks lay open on the floor, their contents spilling out and cluttering the room with a medley of robes, T-shirts, trousers, books, quills, and much more. The surface of the desk was obscured by two cages crammed tightly together, and two broomsticks (one labelled with golden letters Firebolt, the other one Cleansweep) were leaning against the wardrobe. Next to the bed, a mattress had been forced onto the last bit of unoccupied floor.

On the bedside table there were two pieces of parchment, one of which looked very official, written neatly in curly letters of blue ink:

Dear Harry James Potter and Ronald Bilius Weasley,

You are hereby invited to the Wedding of Belle Fleur Antoinette Delacour and Bill Fabian Weasley. The Wedding will take place on Friday, August first at the Burrow near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The festivities will start at two o'clock p.m. We ask that those wizards capable of Apparition not directly Apparate to the Burrow.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Bride and Groom.

The other one was rather more like a letter sent to a family or a friend, as it wasn't as courtly in tone:

Dear Harry and Ron,

Madam Pomfrey finally let Bill come home to the Burrow, we are so glad he's back, we'd all missed him. Of course, we started with preparations for the wedding immediately - we think it will hold place on first of August, but you are going to receive a formal invitation anyway, of course.

Fleur's sister Gabrielle, her brother and her parents are going to arrive some days before the Wedding, because Fleur wants Ginny and Gabrielle, the bridesmaids, to practise waltz and also to make sure that their dresses match. Mr and Mrs Delacour were very excited and told us they want that they want to be 'included' in preparations as well.

I hope you two are behaving - especially you, Ron, I don't want the Dursleys to get a wrong impression of wizardry (or at least don't make it any worse). And please don't try to fix everything with magic now that you've finally come of age, because you have two hands and they haven't been given to you without a purpose.

Harry, we would be delighted to have you stay with us after the wedding until school starts again, if it does. Hermione can stay too, of course.

We don't know yet at what time the ceremony is going to start, but we'd be glad to have you two here in the morning at home, to have a look at the state of your dress robes - and of course we can't wait to see you again. Since Ron failed the Apparition test and you, Harry dear, haven't taken it yet, we don't know how you two are going to come to the Burrow. Arthur suggested connecting the Dursleys' fireplace to the Floo Network to get you home as fast as possible.

Please write back so we know how you're going to come.

I hope you're fine, and I miss you two,

Mum

The two to whom the letters were addressed had read them thoroughly many times, but now they were downstairs in the dining room of the Dursley family, having dinner (or, as they would have called it, 'the Last Supper', for it was to be their last night dining with the Dursleys).

Harry Potter was sitting there, his glasses framing emerald green eyes, his black hair as untidy as ever, next to Ron Weasley, his best friend, who had been staying the last month with him at the Dursleys' as he had promised the last day of school.

The Dursleys were acting as though Harry and Ron weren't present - as if they didn't exist at all. Vernon Dursley was talking to his wife, Petunia, about his firm called Grunnings and about the drills they produced for some building project called 'New Brockdale Bridge'. Dudley, their vast and fat son, wasn't listening but watching TV in his portable TV-set.

'... so I tell you, this Brockdale Bridge is a big step forward, we might really manage to get a holiday home in Majorca this time,' Vernon said, grinning broadly as if this was his life's aspiration.

Harry shook his head slightly. He still could not really believe he was going to quit the Dursleys - forever. That he would never ever again have to stay at his aunt and uncle's house. That he would finally be free...

But no, that was not true; Harry had never been free. The first year of his life, maybe, when his parents still had lived, when he had had a real home, a place where he had felt safe - but he couldn't remember. All he did remember was the jet of green light that had killed his mother, the horrible laughter of her murderer...

Since then, he had been locked up in his own life. First with the Dursleys who hated him, then the Prophecy that would either make him a murderer or a corpse, then his task of destroying the darkest wizard of all times...

'One could've thought they might say something,' Ron said quietly, looking at Harry. 'Or rather, anything. I mean, it's your birthday, and they act... they act as if it's any day.'

'Well, to tell the truth, the Dursleys always have acted as if my birthday was any day,' Harry answered. 'Though it is true that sometimes they did give me some of Uncle Vernon's old socks.'

He hadn't bothered to murmur or talk quietly - he did not really care about what the Dursleys thought anymore.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia gaped at him, not quite believing that Harry would have ever dared to insult them so directly. Dudley, however, was still watching TV. Being the extraordinarily fat, self-absorbed teenager he was, he wouldn't even have noticed an atomic bomb crashing down on the lawn in the garden outside.

Eventually, Uncle Vernon found the use of speech again. 'As I was telling you, Petunia, the weather in Majorca is Mediterranean; you remember our honeymoon we spent there? It was just...'

Turning to Ron, Harry said, 'So what time can we go to the Burrow by Floo Powder tomorrow?'

Ron screwed up his face, thinking. 'I think dad said eight o'clock. Or, wait, was it half past seven? Nah, eight o'clock.'

'You sure?'

'Course I am,' Ron said, grinning. 'I can't wait to be there, all the good food, my family, and I finally can show everyone my new dress robes! Oh, and Hermione, of course.'

'I'm a little bit sorry for her,' Harry said. 'I mean, she wanted to stay here, too, but her parents -'

'I think they were just worried,' Ron said. 'It's not as if it's easy to leave your children alone, even if they want to.'

'Whoa,' Harry said, 'I'm impressed. Did you come up with that all by yourself?'

'Yes, I did.' Ron grinned even more broadly, but then his face tightened and he was serious again. 'Is it going to be okay, you know, with Ginny and you being in the same place?'

Harry smiled weakly. 'I think it has to be; after all, I don't want to ruin Bill's wedding. And I'm not going to stay for too long, you remember? I'm going to be off to Godric's Hollow.'

'As well as me and Hermione will be,' Ron said, nodding. 'I didn't forget it. It just seems... well, kind of unreal, you and me and Hermione in Godric's Hollow... what we're going to do?'

'I don't know yet... visit the grave, probably, yeah. And maybe... well, I'd like to see where I would have lived if they hadn't died.'

'But the house you lived in, it was destroyed, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, it was.' Harry looked down at his dinner plate. It was as if the topics they were talking about kept getting worse... first Ginny... then his parents... 'I'd love to see the garden, though. I wonder whether there were any trees, or... this sounds stupid, I know.'

'No, it doesn't, it doesn't at all,' Ron said.

They fell quiet and listened to Uncle Vernon talking more about Majorca, Aunt Petunia nodding here and there and sometimes saying things like 'Ah, really?', 'I can't remember that' and 'Oh yes, it was really beautiful'.

'I'm wondering if they're going to reopen Hogwarts, though,' Ron said suddenly. 'Not as if I'd go back if they were, because me and Hermione, we're going to come with you, of course.'

Harry hesitated a few seconds before saying, 'You know, you don't have to -'

'I know I don't have to, and Hermione knows as well,' Ron interrupted him. 'But we're best friends, so it would be kind of thick not to go with you. We want to. We want to help you.'

Harry smiled. 'Thanks.'

'Still, if Hogwarts did reopen, it would never be the same. I mean, you can't just lose someone like Dumbledore and then... well... Things would be different, I suppose.'

Well, they had reached about the worst and gravest topic imaginable: the death of Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been murdered by none other than Severus Snape, one of his staff members, and even just thinking about it made Harry feel sick.

'Yeah, things would be different. Like Snape changing sides. Or rather, not changing them. I still can't believe Dumbledore trusted Snape... he trusted him so badly... only because Snape said he was sorry for something he obviously wished could happen since his childhood.'

'What I can't really believe is that Dumbledore didn't tell you,' Ron said.

'Well, of course he wouldn't, because he knew I would get mad.'

'Of course you would,' Ron said wisely, 'because it's his fault your parents died.'

Harry didn't answer this time. Instead, he reached for a locket he was wearing on a chain around his neck. It was golden, with a smooth surface, not particularly heavy, and shining in the light of the setting sun. With a slight click he opened it, and took out a piece of parchment he already knew by heart, which he had read over and over again, looking for clues, anything that would help him solve this problem.

'Do you want to talk about R.A.B.?' Ron asked.

'I don't know if I want to talk about him,' Harry said. He sighed and shuffled the little piece of parchment back into the locket. 'We've always talked about him the past few weeks; I think everything's been said. We have to talk to somebody else, but we can't, and it's driving me mad. I still can't believe Dumbledore's been killed because of - nothing.'

Ron looked at Harry, who could tell Ron didn't know what to say.

'Come on... I was just ranting on about it without thinking,' Harry said, 'it's not nothing.' He added this bit, trying to convince himself more than Ron. 'What I want to say, it's not going to be easy. After all, we have to look for four Horcruxes, one of which we're not even sure what it is. It's not going to be easy, it really isn't, but it's not impossible, or Dumbledore wouldn't have told me about them.'

'Yeah, you're right,' Ron said. 'And anyway, I bet Hermione's already looking for, like, you know anyone in history with the initials R.A.B.'

'Yes, she's probably doing it right now,' Harry said, thinking of the letter Hermione had written to Harry and Ron in the first week of the holidays. In the letter she had said she was searching through all the books she possessed, Wizard and Muggle books alike.

'Let's go upstairs, all right? To get our stuff packed,' Harry said eventually, and he and Ron got up and left the dining room. None of the Dursleys seemed to take any notice at all.

They entered Harry's bedroom on the first floor - and Ron let out a yelp.

A creature was standing amidst the chaos Harry and Ron were about to clean up. It took Harry, who was completely taken aback, some seconds to find his voice, 'Kreacher.'

He hadn't changed a bit since the last time they'd seen him; he was just as old and wizened and still clothed in nothing but a towel bearing the Hogwarts School crest. Mumbling angrily, the house-elf looked at his master.

'Oh, the young master has finally come to his sleeping place,' he said slimily and adding in a clearly audible tone under his breath, 'that dump amidst Muggles, filthy little creatures not worth living anywhere near wizards and witches, but then the young master and his ugly friend are not real wizards at all, a Mudblood and a Blood Traitor, nearly as bad as Muggles themselves, who at least remain a race apart, not meddling and -'

'Er, Kreacher,' Harry said, 'we both can hear what you're saying.'

'See,' Ron added, 'you're not exactly keeping your voice down.'

With big lamp-like eyes, Kreacher scowled at Harry and Ron. 'Oh, yes, the master and his friend can hear Kreacher; of course, they have two ears each after all... little ugly fleshy things sticking out of their big heads -'

'And they're working perfectly fine,' Ron said, his ears turning a rather dark shade of red.

'What are you doing here, Kreacher?' Harry said. 'Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?'

'Kreacher was at Hogwarts, oh yes, there he was, living among the other elves in that pitiful school which has lost all prestige it has ever had, now under that new Headmistress Professor McGonagall - that unworthy person, nearly as bad as Dumbledore himself was, all of them allowing Mudbloods in school. Oh yes, the last good and sane Headmaster was my grandmother's dear Master Phineas Nigellus Black -'

'Stop ranting about your oh-so-great-family-of-Black,' Harry said angrily. It even gave a painful throb through his whole body saying that, as it reminded him of his godfather Sirius, who had been the last heir of the Black family.

'As Master wishes, as Master wishes... as Master wishes Kreacher shall act,' the house-elf said, bowing deep before Harry.

Harry folded his arms, waiting for Kreacher to get up. 'Well, I'm waiting.'

'Waiting for what, oh dear Master of me,' Kreacher said, remaining deeply bowed.

Harry rolled his eyes.

'Kreacher, get up.'

Kreacher straightened up at once, watching Harry and Ron with a distinct look of disgust on his face, matching that which Ron had on his own face as he looked at Kreacher.

'Now, tell me why you're here.'

Still glaring at Harry and Ron as if he wanted to kill them with his regards, Kreacher finally said, 'Kreacher was sent to his home, and apparently, home is wherever Kreacher's master or mistress is.'

'Well, all right,' Harry said, trying to remain calm. Kreacher seemed to enjoy provoking Harry. 'You were sent. Sent by whom?'

'Sent by Professor Horace Edmund Fulton Slughorn, Head of House of Slytherin, wealthiest and purest and most ancient house of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded by the famous and -'

'We know Slytherin House was founded by Slytherin,' Ron interrupted Kreacher. 'It's not as if we haven't got History in school - or, well, as if we hadn't.'

'Yeah, don't beat about the bush,' Harry said. 'So you were sent by Slughorn. Why?'

Kreacher said, sulking, 'Kreacher was sent to his rightful master by Professor Slughorn of Slytherin, because Professor Slughorn himself had been asked by the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to remind Harry Potter that the charm of the former Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore protecting the "Boy who Lived" is going to end the very first second the day his birthday ends.'

'That's midnight, I suppose?' Harry said, looking at Ron, whose mouth was slightly open.

Ron looked bewildered. 'Er, Kreacher, could you repeat that?' he asked.

Kreacher glared disdainfully at Ron. 'Kreacher is not going to repeat any syllable to the Blood Traitor, the little bastard of the biggest blood betraying family Kreacher ever had to look at, oh yes, Kreacher is not going to forget the months at my mistress's house, befuddled by this unworthy pack of people, werewolves and criminals and traitors and Mudbloods... Grimmauld Place Number 12 has been desecrated by the dirty feet of -'

'That's enough!' Harry said loudly. He breathed deeply, and then said calmly, 'Is there anything else you've got to tell me?'

'Yes, my dear Master, Kreacher does have something else to say,' Kreacher said, once again bowing deeply.

'Well?' Harry said.

'Well what, Master Potter?' Kreacher said with a malicious grin.

'What else do you have to say? Tell me,' Harry said impatiently.

'What more Kreacher has to tell you is that the new Headmistress wants to talk to you as fast as possible,' Kreacher said.

'Why?' Harry asked.

'The Headmistress did not confide in Professor Slughorn who therefore could not confide in Kreacher.'

'Well, good, then... If that's all you've got to tell me - it's all, isn't it?' Harry asked suspiciously.

Kreacher nodded.

'All right, then you go back to Hogwarts,' Harry said, adding hastily, 'on the direct way. No stopping at any other places, like Grimmauld Place, or the Malfoy's, or anywhere - return to Hogwarts. And stay there.'

'As Master wishes,' Kreacher said, straightening up and vanishing with a crack.

'Wow, you were really precise with your orders,' Ron said, sitting down on the mattress and thrusting shirts and robes and trousers into his trunk.

'You've got to be precise with Kreacher,' Harry said, starting to pack his books into his trunk. 'I don't want him wandering around, you know... not after...'

He stopped speaking and thrust his Sneakoscope into his trunk. Ron, however, stopped packing, turning to Harry. 'You mean, after him betraying Sirius and getting him killed?'

Harry simply nodded.

It was strange: Even more than a year after his godfather's death, he still couldn't get how it had happened... He had fallen through a veil, that was all, it wasn't something that killed you… unless, of course, the veil happened to stand in the secret Department of Mysteries.

It was all so unfair; Harry could have kicked the trunk. All the people he loved ended up dead... his parents, his godfather... Dumbledore...

He dried his eyes with his black school robes. Without realising it, he had started to cry. Ron had deliberately returned to packing, not saying anything, and Harry was thankful for that.

Throughout the rest of the time it took to clean up Harry's room and pack everything into their trunks, Harry and Ron remained quiet. Despite the smallness of the room, it nearly took two hours to pack everything, mostly due to the room's state of extreme untidiness. At last, however, the only things that weren't packed were the furniture, the two brooms, and the two cages on the desk.

'I wouldn't mind Hedwig not coming before we leave,' Harry said finally, throwing himself onto his bed. 'She definitely wouldn't want to go to the Burrow by Floo Powder, and she knows that's the only place I would want to be right now, so she'll find us if we're not here anymore.'

'Yeah, I know what you mean,' Ron said, stretching on the mattress. 'Pig's always so excited - I don't think Floo Powder travelling would do him any good.'

Harry looked at the clock he had repaired seven summers ago. Suddenly he remembered everything that had happened to him since then... it was marvellous, but simultaneously scary and disturbing.

He and Ron took off their clothes, put on their pyjamas and then lay down onto the bed.

It was one minute before midnight.

Harry closed his eyes, calming down. His birthday was over, he was seventeen now - he could legally do magic outside school. He could go and try to finish what Dumbledore had started.

The very first second after midnight, Harry bolted up. He looked around, irritated. He had heard a noise, quite distinctive. It had reminded him of the crack Kreacher had emitted the moment he had vanished into thin air.

The noise of Apparition.

It had come from outside, he was sure.

'What's the matter, Harry?' Ron said, sitting up as well. He looked at Harry in bewilderment.

'Quiet!' Harry hissed.

'Wh-?'

With a jerk of his head, Harry guided Ron's eyes to the clock.

Thirty seconds past midnight.

'So the charm's been lifted,' Ron whispered. 'What are you worrying about?'

Crack.

There it was again. And this time, Ron heard it as well. They stood up and hurried quietly to the window.

It was a dark night; no moon shone in the sky, and the stars were covered by dusty mist and clouds. The lanterns were glowing gloomily and cast the whole neighbourhood in orange light.

Something was moving out there.

Ron gasped.

Two shadowy figures were standing on the street, closely together; they wore long, jet black cloaks.

Crack.

A third shadow appeared out of nowhere, three metres away from where the two were already standing. He joined them. Harry couldn't make out their faces. Squinting through his glasses, he said to Ron, without turning away from the scenery they both witnessed, 'Death Eaters?'

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Ron shrugging. 'Still, nothing good, I bet,' he added in a whisper.

Suddenly, Harry heard another sound, a softly trembling tone, ringing in his ears. Ron turned away, looking at the trunks. 'I think it's coming from yours,' he said.

'The Sneakoscope,' Harry said. 'We've got to wake the Dursleys and get out of here.'

'How?' Ron asked.

'We could try and Apparate, guide two of the Dursleys... the third one has to take one of our brooms,' Harry said, trying to stay calm, but it wasn't easy.

Death Eaters. Death Eaters.

They were standing outside, right in front of Privet Drive, Number four. There were three Death Eaters, all of them big, grown up and on top of their magical power. On the other side, there were two wizards who hadn't even completed their studies, and the Dursleys.

'I've got to wake up the Dursleys,' Harry said. 'You take the brooms downstairs.'

'Too late, I fear,' Ron said, shaking slightly. 'Better take your wand, boy, they're already coming up the front lawn.'

Desperate, Harry closed his eyes for a second.

The house shook and even through his closed eyes, Harry could see a dazzling jet of light. A loud, crashing noise and wood splintering. They had blasted away the front door.

From next to his room, Harry could hear Uncle Vernon screaming, 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?'

Harry turned to face Ron, who was still trembling. His face was ashen white.

'Grab your wand,' Harry said, drawing his own one.

They opened the door and peered out. The very moment the Dursleys' bedroom door opened and Uncle Vernon came bolting out, screaming, 'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, POTTER?'

Harry would have very much loved to punch Uncle Vernon for saying this. Another door opened, and Dudley came out, his eyes almost closed. 'Wha's goin' on?' he mumbled.

Aunt Petunia followed Uncle Vernon out of the bedroom. She ran to Dudley, grabbing Vernon's arm and pulling him with her. She was talking too, rather to herself than to anyone else, 'They've come, they've come... they've come to take us all.'

'Not quite right,' another voice sounded from the stairs. Harry knew this voice; he had already heard it before. 'We will take the little Potter boy, but the rest - yes, the rest are going to die.'

It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her eyes were wide open, her black hair falling around her face in dark, shiny sheets, a wand held in her hand; however, she did not wear a white mask to hide her face as the two who followed her did; Harry was quite sure those were Rodolphus, Bellatrix's husband, and Rodolphus's brother Rabastan.

Harry stepped forward, his wand in his hand, facing the woman who had killed his godfather. 'Let the others go; you've come to get me, after all.'

Bellatrix laughed shortly, her eyes fixed upon Harry. Then she said, sneering, 'Oh no, you are not in the position to negotiate. The Dark Lord wants you, and it will be me who brings you to him.'

'Oh, yeah, you want to try and make up for your miserable performance in the Department of Mysteries?' Ron said loudly from the doorway.

Harry thought for a second Bellatrix was going to curse Ron for saying this, but then she sneered even wider. 'Oh, I wouldn't call it a miserable performance, seeing that I killed my wayward cousin,' she laughed coldly, penetrating Harry with her eyes.

Harry screwed up his face, feeling searing pain in his chest; he had to stay calm to fight her, he mustn't get angry, it was what she was trying to do so that he would not be able to concentrate and fight her.

'But you two were there, weren't you?' Bellatrix said with a fanatic grin. 'You didn't bother to help him, though, did you? Cowardice won't save you any longer, Potter...

'Find your fate!'

As she raised her wand without saying anything, Harry instantly knew she was about to perform a non-verbal spell. He screamed, 'Protego!'

Flashes of light ricocheted around the corridor. The Dursleys screamed, filled with fear.

Next to him, Ron raised his wand, too, screaming, 'Expelliarmus!'

One of the other Death Eaters lost his wand; the small piece of wood disappeared down the staircase, clunking slightly as it fell to the ground.

'Expelliarmus!' Harry yelled, but Bellatrix moved her wand and the flash of Harry's jinx simply disappeared.

'Crucio!' snapped the other Death Eater, who still had his wand.

Ron froze, not able to move for a moment, and then fell to the floor, screaming in agony.

'Stupefy!' Harry screamed, and his wand emitted a red flash of light, shooting towards the Death Eater.

The spell hit the Death Eater, who collapsed, but Bellatrix shrieked, 'Expelliarmus!'

Harry fell to the floor, losing grip of his wand, which clattered onto the ground near Dudley. Harry looked at Bellatrix, disgust in his face; she was leering, showing her teeth, and suddenly pictures rushed past Harry's inner eye...

A golden locket, its surface engraved with a serpentine 'S'… A diary, stabbed in the centre by a giant tooth, torrents of ink spilling out… A cup with two finely wrought handles… A big snake, crawling in high grass -

Harry opened his eyes. He felt pain above his left eye... there was a scratch, blood flowing down all over his face. Ron was lying next to him on the floor, his eyes still closed. He seemed to be unconscious.

Harry's and Ron's wands lay too far away from him; he couldn't reach them.

He could have slapped himself... Of course, Bellatrix was a Legilimens, or she wouldn't have been able to teach Malfoy Occlumency...

She had read Harry's mind...

She knew...

'What did the Master's snake do in your thoughts?' Bellatrix screamed, approaching Harry.

'Who is your Master, anyway?' Uncle Vernon said behind Harry. 'And what are you doing here?'

The other conscious Death Eater took his brother's wand and approached the Dursleys. 'Don't you dare talk to my wife,' he said (and Harry thought, "So this must be Rodolphus"), 'you filthy piece of flesh.'

Aunt Petunia nudged Dudley slightly in the ribs, jerking her head towards the wands lying in front of him. None of the Death Eaters seemed to notice.

Bellatrix laughed madly, her wand still pointing at Harry. 'My master is none other than the Dark Lord, and I am his most faithful servant, and he knows! I'm going to bring him Harry Potter! At last! It is not my duty to ask you what Nagini does in your thoughts, the Dark Lord will know...'

Dudley moved a few inches forward. The Death Eaters seemed to be too distracted by their obvious victory over Harry Potter to notice him. Dudley knelt down, grasping the wand with his fat fingers.

'Let's get it done, Bella,' Rodolphus said.

Bellatrix nodded.

'Let's see, who's going to be first...' she said, her grinning face full of malice. 'Potter's little friend is going to be last, it's going to hurt most to see him go, I know... they fought in... Where was it? The place where I killed my good-for-nothing cousin?'

'As if you would forget that,' Harry said through clenched teeth. 'The place where he lost what he wanted most. Due to your faults.'

'Silence!' Bellatrix screamed. 'It was not my fault! It wasn't! IT WAS NOT MY FAULT!'

'Calm down,' Rodolphus said, not at all disturbed. The way he spoke made it clear that he was used to Bellatrix's tantrums. 'Let's kill them and get the job done.'

Bellatrix was about to retort, opening her mouth and looking infuriated, before seeming to calm down and say, 'I like your idea, Dolphus. I'm going to kill the fat man first; it'll take a strong charm to finish him off and I want to be on top form for Potter's little friend...'

Ron moaned silently, opening his eyes at last. Uncle Vernon shuddered, his forehead now gleaming with sweat as Bellatrix raised her wand arm.

What came to pass after that happened very quickly. Bellatrix brought her wand down, which emitted jets of light; Uncle Vernon cried out, horrified; Ron got to his feet, dread in his eyes; Harry gasped.

And Aunt Petunia screamed at the top of her voice, 'MOVE IT!'

For a split second Harry didn't understand what she meant by that, until he saw Dudley, who was trembling and terrified, moving Harry's wand through the air. He did not say any magic words, he obviously didn't know what he was doing, but a bright light was suddenly filling the corridor, blinding the Death Eaters who screamed, trying to regain sight.

Harry, blinded by the dazzling light as well, searched for Ron's wand on the floor. His hands finally found the stick; he waved it, screaming, 'Accio Brooms!'

He sensed the Firebolt coming to a halt next to him and could tell that the Cleansweep was suspended somewhere near Ron. Harry yelled, 'Mount it and flee! Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, hold on to any of us two or the brooms!'

'They want to flee!' Bellatrix shrieked. 'Stop them! Stop them!' And with these words she cast one curse after another, hoping that any of them would meet one of her targets. 'Crucio! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Stupefy! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!'

Then Harry, who had mounted his broom and held out his hand, hoping one of the Dursleys would grasp it, heard something else - more cracking noises.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

'Get them!' Harry heard a man's voice shout - a voice he already knew. 'Get the Death Eaters!'

'Aurors!' Rodolphus yelled horror-struck. Another crack. Harry was sure he had Disapparated.

Then Bellatrix shrieked for the last time, 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

The dazzling light vanished the second she Disapparated. Then something - someone behind Harry fell to the floor.

He remained there with his hand out behind him, but he had no hope that anyone would grasp it anymore.