Harry Potter and the Battle for the Light

Eye of the Storm

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Great Hall

Unknown

It was chaos. Wherever he looked, it was the same. There were too many fighters to keep track of them all and too much spell work going on to really pay attention; he was concentrating on staying alive.

Everywhere he could see witches, wizards, house-elves and even a few centaurs engaged in combat. He saw Death Eaters falling under the clever curses of the Weasley twins, Ron and Hermione taking down Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Neville blasting anything that crossed his path and Severus cutting a swath through the lines of Death Eaters that dared approach him.

It was pandemonium but, though there were many he still couldn't see, Harry was desperate to find one in particular. He ran through the crowds of duelers, dodging curses and throwing shields in front of the Hogwartians. There were dozens of fighters cluttered inside the Great Hall, making her difficult to spot. He wasn't quite sure why he needed her right now. She could take care of herself, he knew better than most, and he had his own matters to attend to.

Voldemort was around here somewhere, killing his opponents, barking out orders and coordinating the Death Eaters' efforts. So why was he looking for her when he should've been fighting the Dark Lord? He wasn't sure but in his mind somehow Ginny and Voldemort were connected. If he could only see them both he would know what to do.

Harry ran fast through the Great Hall, to the left, avoiding a group of fighters, and passing by the Slytherins' table, or what was left of it. Pieces of wood, marble, cloth, metal and even a few corpses were a hindrance to his mad sprint through the Great Hall. The battle had turned the usually beautiful and elegantly furnished room into the scenery of a nightmare, one he couldn't escape from.

And at last, there she was, where the teacher's table used to be, now hundreds of small pieces of wood scattered on the ground, and Harry froze, just watching. Ginny's fiery red hair danced wildly as she dodged, turned, twisted and stood up straight again, a constant stream of curses flowing from her wand towards her opponent.

Bellatrix Lestrange mimicked Ginny's movements perfectly, like a well practiced routine where they both knew what the other was doing and how to counter the curses they were throwing at each other.

Harry watched transfixed as the curses singed and scorched the walls and floor around them, the very air thick with the electricity of raw power, and their wands a blur. He could almost taste the magic, and he could definitely feel it, growing steadily stronger and dangerous as both women dueled fiercely; a duel to the death.

It took less than a second for him to realize that this was a duel Ginny would not win, so he moved forwards to help. But even as he dashed towards her Harry knew he was too late.

A jet of sickly, green light erupted from Bellatrix's wand and time seemed to slow down. The moment would be perfectly burned into his mind forever; Lestrange's triumphant expression; Ginny's surprised look; the blood pounding in his ears; the suddenly noiseless room.

As slow as Harry processed the moment, it was over in less than two seconds. The killing curse rent the air in half and flew straight through Ginny's shield as if it hadn't even been there. Her look of surprise turned into shock and then horror as she caught up with what was happening and the curse hit her dead on her chest, and she fell.

Harry jumped towards her, half believing she would be all right if he could catch her. But he couldn't. Ginny hit the ground noiselessly, the raging sound of the rest of the battle drowning everything around him. But still he wanted to close the distance between them and kneel helplessly by her side.

Her eyelids were still open, the look of horror plastered on her face forever. Ginny looked as beautiful as she had always been; his angel in red hair, the cute freckles and the warm, brown eyes, now staring lifelessly at the enchanted sky of the Great Hall.

But he couldn't get to her. Even as he ran as fast as he could, she seemed to be drifting away from him, the distance between them growing steadily bigger. The noise of the battle seemed to have died down. He didn't know if it was already over, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that Ginny was gone and there was nothing he could do about it, not even reach her.

Ever so slowly the scene of the Hogwarts Massacre in the Great Hall dissolved into nothingness, into darkness. Only Ginny's pale skin and red hair were visible in the distance as Harry struggled to get close to her, hindered by an unseen force he couldn't overpower.

A strangled cry left his lips as his legs faltered and he dropped to his knees, his mind suddenly understanding he would never see her again. And he snapped. He raged and yelled in despair, hopelessness, anger and loss, banging his fists on whatever the ground was made of. Her lifeless body was slowly drifting away from him, like the future they could have had, like the love they had shared.

But he could stay there forever, not caring about Voldemort or Bellatrix, or what would happen if he didn't defeat the Dark Lord. Harry had lost a piece of himself and if he couldn't get it back, he just couldn't go on anymore.

He couldn't escape the torment, the shame, the hopelessness. Wherever he was Harry just couldn't leave and, though he didn't realize it, he didn't even want to. Some masochistic streak forced his mind to play the different moments and conversations he had shared with her; the first time Ginny had said she loved him and how he had struggled to get the same words out; that memorable time they had spent by the lake, just enjoying each other's company; the day of Dumbledore's funeral, when he had broken up with her and made a silent promise of coming back to her alive and whole, to see what the future held for them.

And it was all gone now, all pointless. Ginny was dead and he had failed, his promise broken.

Harry woke up with a scream ready to burst out from his lips, body drenched in sweat and the sheets a tangled mess around him. His breath was coming out roughly as he smothered the impulse to explode, to destroy everything within reach. With his face buried in his hands Harry sighed raggedly and took a slow, tentative breath of fresh air in an attempt to calm himself.

He felt cold, overwhelmed by the recurrent memory and sluggish, his tortured mind slowly regaining its composure and awareness. Harry could hear birds chirping happily outside, the smell of burnt wood filling his nostrils and his eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden intrusion of light.

Waking up after reliving one of the worst moments of his life but immediately recognizing his surroundings was an unfortunate consequence of spending so much time in the Hospital Wing. Having a room of his own was also a consequence of spending too much time here.

It was an ugly room though. The curtains were drawn but light still filtered through, illuminating his private ward; a hard, white bed, two wooden chairs pushed against one of the white walls, the white floor, white ceiling, white fireplace...all white. It was enough to send his head spinning again.

Harry slumped back on the bed and closed his eyes, shoving the nightmare to that section of his mind he had never visited and never would. Occlumency was a blessing, but only as long as he was awake. The time he spent sleeping was like playing the roulette; one could only watch helplessly as the little ball jumped over the different choices and then centered into one, not caring if that was what he wanted to see or not.

And so his unconscious roulette-ball of a mind had chosen to watch the last living moments of one Ginny Weasley. But this time the ball hadn't been so random. This usually happened to him when someone he knew died, and today was, apparently, not to be the exception.

Almost six years had already passed by since she had died, and seven since they had been apart. Harry would always regret his 'noble' decision of letting her go, instead choosing to pursue his mortal enemy until he either succeeded or died. It had been childish, self-centered, naïve and, above all, shamefully stupid and unnecessary.

But it was all over and done, he told himself, like he had done over and over again over the years. Whatever he had been thinking at the moment was irrelevant now. Whether Ginny would've died or not if he had done things differently was a matter Harry put to the back of his mind, together with the nightmare and anything else that distracted him from his ultimate goal and purpose in life: to win.

It had almost become a habit after having the nightmares, but he couldn't stop nor did he want to. He took it from the inner-pocket of his discarded robes and held it carefully in his hands. The picture was in pristine condition, a sign of how much Harry cared for it. Ten people smiled and grinned at him, waving their hands or giving him the thumbs-up; Ron, Hermione, himself, Dean, Seamus, Fred, George, Neville, Luna and Ginny.

It had been taken back in fifth year, happier times, Harry would say, after the end of one of their last DA meetings. At the time the world seemed engulfed in darkness for Harry but, looking back, he knew he had been wrong. What could be better than having time with your friends during a school year? To have to worry only about Quidditch and homework? To be blissfully ignorant and naïve regarding the real threat that Lord Voldemort represented? To leave the fighting to the adults?

The ten of them were lined up, with him and Ginny at the middle. Harry had his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. Every now and then he would kiss her neck, she would giggle and he would grin ruefully at the camera. Tears spilt onto the framed picture before he could stop them.

The photograph was eerily reminiscent of the one he had been shown by Mad-eye Moody once, where the original Order of the Phoenix had been portrayed. And just like Moody's picture, those that had once been members of the DA were slowly being killed, one by one. Ginny was gone, so was Luna, so was Dean and they all had had close calls over the last few years. Would it end like last time? Could they win in the end, by some unexpected miracle? Would it be worth it if most of the people standing in the photograph died? Harry wasn't sure of the answer and he would rather not dwell on it too much, lest he actually came up with one.

The painful reminder was once away tucked safely inside his robe's pocket and Harry stood up, pulled his robe over his head and closed his eyes, trying to collect himself before walking out the door. It only took a few minutes, he had a lot of practice. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders and adopted a blank look on his face, an expression that allowed him to pass unnoticed by his peers.

The day promised to be eventful, if a gloomy one, but he couldn't be deterred by that. With his head held high Harry pushed the door open and walked into the general ward of the Hospital Wing. He couldn't shake off the past but he could ignore it, at least for now, until his job was done and he could look into the future.

The large room was eerily quiet. Every now and then one of the injured would shift in their sleep, making the soft sheets shuffle and the metal beds they occupied squeak under the moving weight. There were a total of seven patients this morning, a low number compared to what Harry had come to expect after every Halloween.

It was barely dawn and the sun shone palely in the sky outside, faintly illuminating the room. Harry walked slowly and quietly towards the first set of beds and with a lazy flick of his wand conjured one of his trademark arm-chairs. It was still very early but, even as he sat and closed his eyes, Harry really couldn't bring himself to sleep and had outright refused any potions the night before. He had only strained his magical core with that damn curse earlier but mixing certain herbs in his recovering state wouldn't do him any good. The fact that Poppy hadn't pestered him to drink the sleep potion, since she didn't believe in Harry's magic's weird behavior, was testament of how his bad mood had probably shown on his face and that Poppy knew he was staying up to keep Neville company the next day.

Since he couldn't go back to sleep Harry made the most out of the silent ward and his still sleeping friends. He knew that if he didn't organize his mind now then he would have to do it later and the task would become harder. One of the nuisances of Occlumency and the main reason people never bothered with it, Severus had taught him, was that the person had to sort through his memories every day. It was tiring, frustrating and time-consuming but Harry, of all people, didn't have much of a choice.

And so he began.

His mind was cast back to the day before, how it had begun and ended. He filed away the information on Hermione's plan, locked away the images of his friends' corpses and sorted through the rest. Even as he trudged forward with the task Harry couldn't help but feel he had let everyone down.

What had started like any other normal day, with Voldemort threateningly looming over the Order members' lives, had ended in disaster, something Harry associated with Halloween. It had been foolish to presume the thirtieth of October could end in a non-tragic way. It was like asking Voldemort to be kind or a flobberworm to be interesting; it just wasn't possible.

So why had Harry hoped to change that? In retrospect, he supposed he should've ordered his team, plus Neville and company, to flee the battle when they could. He shouldn't have expected any kind of success. Funnily, it had been half-successful, in a way. After all, approximately twenty or thirty muggles usually died in Halloween and, as far as he knew, last night had only brought two deaths. But that didn't make it any easier; especially since those two that had been killed were his friends, Oliver and Leonard.

But it went beyond the friendship they had shared, beyond what he had lost personally. The worst thing that could happen to a leader was watching his people die. As the second in command, Harry was responsible for every single one of the fighters the Order had, except for Kingsley, who was his superior. As the leader he was looked upon to solve problems, and this was one that he couldn't solve.

Being a leader was both a blessing and a curse. Every time one of his wards accomplished something the rest of the team swelled with pride, but none as much as the leader. Even when one of his team members got married, Harry himself felt pride and happiness on their behalf. They were a wonderful second-family together, albeit a really weird one. Ever since he had been promoted to lead the second team he had watched as those under his responsibility lived, battled, trained, laughed and cried together.

The same thing was true when it came to failure. Any kind of event that presented a problem to his team, however meek it seemed, was his responsibility. Not only did he have to carry the shame and pressure of the problem but he had also to solve it.

Oliver and Leonard were gone, dead in the course of their duties, under his command. He had been the higher-ranking officer and he had failed them. It didn't matter how logically the situation was analyzed. His friends would probably say it wasn't his fault. Granted, in a way, it wasn't his fault. He hadn't delivered the blow that had killed them but he might as well have done so. Although Harry had gone through the process of grieving a K.I.A follower, accepting the loss and moving forward a number of times before, this was the first time Neville would feel it. And that, that made it all the worse.

Gladly, he came back to the present, his Occlumency exercises done. Funny how his Legilimency had improved faster than Occlumency, something he had been working on since his fifth year, eight years ago. Nevertheless, Harry hoped to become a Master in the mind arts eventually, perhaps even surpassing Voldemort and, thus, gaining an important strategic advantage.

Harry glanced to his left to where his friend was sleeping, frequently tossing around in his bed to shake off invisible attackers or yet another nightmare. Neville's face had been healed quickly, luck had done him a favor and his injuries hadn't marred his face. Other parts of his body hadn't been as lucky, particularly his shoulder. Whatever that cursed fire had been - and Harry suspected Fiendfyre - it had left a black and red scar that would follow Neville the rest of his life. Harry knew he had also suffered some kind of injury to his leg but Poppy had said not to worry about it. If she said it was healed, then it was. Never question a Healer if you could avoid it.

Besides thinking about his failure, what had kept him awake was knowing Neville would be facing this guilt for the first time. Without the records Harry didn't know how many times Neville had led a team so far but he was sure it had to be fewer than ten. He had been made captain only two months ago. So far he had been successful but everyone knew that wouldn't last forever. It never did. Nevertheless, Harry was very proud of Neville. He had handled an unexpected situation very well and even sent as many members of his team to safety as he could. That alone would've been something to be proud of but Harry knew Neville would be berating himself for the loss of Oliver and maybe even Leonard.

Harry shifted his position until his legs were propped on an empty bed, his hands crossed behind his head and his unfocused gaze on the ceiling. Today would be the funeral. Oliver and Leonard would be honoured and placed to rest along the rest that had passed away before them. Speeches would be made, advice would be given and the closest to the deceased would be inconsolable. How would Oliver's mother feel? She had lost her husbandthree years ago and now her last living family member had died as well. Harry didn't even try to imagine what that particular pain would feel like. He could barely think about losing Teddy without blowing up a room.

And what about Leonard? The man had had no family but he had been liked by all. People usually said that Leonard was the twenty-year-old version of Harry; loyal, good, fair, caring and naïve to a fault. Harry didn't particularly feel all that naïve and good, not anymore, but those were definitely the traits he wanted the future generations to have. Leonard had been the kind of person who accepted anyone without second thoughts, who would have something good to say about those that were being criticized and would always wear a bright smile on his face, joking and laughing at every opportunity. He would miss that.

A light breeze made its way through the open window above his head, caressing his skin as it extended through the Hospital Wing. Harry sighed wearily, wiping a tear away from his face. Oliver and Leon, gone. And it would only get worse. Hermione, as per usual, had concocted one of her bizarre plans to leave Britain and he was sure that it would be much harder in practice than it sounded in theory. How many would die to get them out of the country? How many would die to get them back in? There were too many unknowns in the plan but it was the best they had ever had and Harry doubted a better idea would crop up any time soon.

He was startled by the creaking sound of the Hospital's door opening. Smooth footsteps echoed in the quiet room as whoever had opened the door walked calmly away from it. Harry smiled when he recognized the presence as well as the distinct pace the person maintained.

"Injured too, Kingsley?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked slowly into his line of vision, being careful not to make too much noise lest he annoyed Poppy or woke up one of her patients, which would annoy her even more. He was wearing his battle robes but his uniform appeared to be clean, ironed and intact, suggesting he had not seen any battles recently.

The leader of the Phoenix Teams smiled kindly as he cast a silencing charm around them and sat down quietly in his own conjured chair beside him. He sighed theatrically and spoke in a voice laced with exaggerated exasperation. "Bit like Albus, are we?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "He always knew who was coming and refused to say how he did it. Care to enlighten me?" Kingsley asked. Harry chuckled at the ex-auror. Many said Harry exuded a presence but in his opinion there was no other that could match Kingsley's ever-calm demeanor and soothing abilities.

"Not really, my friend, not today." Harry sighed. "Came in to report the night's activities so I could finally get my beauty sleep?"

Kingsley shifted in his seat and answered in that rich and low voice of his. "As you very well know, or figured out by now, Voldemort didn't make an appearance tonight," he said. "We haven't heard from Malfoy yet but I suspect that, with as many as fifteen Death Eaters killed or captured, he decided to break the yearly tradition." Harry smiled slightly at this, glad that something good had come out of his stupid decision to stay and fight. "I finished my shift, left Ron in charge and decided to pay you a visit."

Harry nodded. "So," he dragged the word casually. He wanted to bring up any topic that would distract Kingsley. In Harry's opinion, talking about tonight's events could wait forever. "How are the muggles taking it?"

The glare he received in response told Harry that his efforts wouldn't get him far. Kingsley sighed wearily but answered nonetheless. "Quite bad, actually. I know it isn't easy to adapt to a radical change but you'd think the mother would stop complaining and the girl would stop crying by now." Harry chuckled but offered no input. Kingsley knew what Harry thought about these situations. "Don't worry though, I'll have both of them assigned to a local soon." At this he looked at Harry meaningfully.

He stiffened under Kingsley's gaze, already knowing what he was suggesting. "Oh, no," Harry said as he shook his head. "There's no way I'll get dragged into this, Kingsley. If you want to have fun I suggest you ask Severus. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to do it."

"Sorry, Harry, but it's your turn." Harry groaned. "Come on, it won't be so bad. It'll help you take your mind off of - of things." Ah, good move, Kingsley, Harry acknowledged silently. That was definitely a bonus. But still, there were many other things he could do to avoid thinking about Oliver and Leonard; namely, killing a dragon. "I know you don't like it but you have to do it. Remus did it last time so now it's your turn."

Harry groaned again and sat up straight. Kingsley was right, of course. After Remus it was Harry's turn to do muggleborn-touring. It didn't make it any more fun or appealing though. He made a mental note to talk to Minerva about having Council members showing the place around. It wasn't like nobody else knew The Valley. Surely anyone could do the job, right?

"You have to do it, Harry."

"No way, Kingsley."

"I'm afraid you don't have a say in this."

"And why is that?"

"It's an order."

"I can delegate the task."

"I order that you do it."

"Damn you."

Kingsley snorted and Harry smiled slightly. It wasn't the most conventional way of cheering a person up, but it had certainly worked. "Thanks, Kingsley." He looked at Harry and gave him a smug smile. Yes, the man knew exactly what he had done.

"Don't mention it," he said airily. "Although, I do expect you to show them around, you know." Harry waved his hand dismissively and nodded. "Good. And I think you'll find our new resident muggleborn to be quite the puzzle. Be sure to check them thoroughly before letting them in. There's something fishy about the girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

Harry nodded, only half-paying attention. He was trying to figure out the best way, meaning the shortest, to show these people around so that he could get on with other, more distracting tasks. Unaware of Harry's thoughts, Kingsley coughed to get his attention.

His calm expression had suddenly turned grave. "There is one thing I could get out of the muggles." He paused and grimaced. "Actually, they phrased it more like a threat, but they told me anyway." Kingsley shook his head. "They said that there was talk among their neighbors about arming themselves and starting patrols." Harry, now giving him his full attention, cringed at the idea. Muggles patrolling against wizards was the perfect excuse for Voldemort to start an official anti-muggle campaign. Kingsley grimaced again and nodded. "I see we are of the same mind. Frankly, I'm not sure what to do. We can't exactly broadcast our existence and explain the situation..." Kingsley trailed off tiredly.

"Times are changing, Kingsley," Harry supplied slowly. "There may very well come the time when the Statue of Secrecy becomes useless and our presence is announced to the world." Harry wandlessly summoned a glass of water and took a small sip. "But now isn't the time to worry about it. We have more pressing matters to discuss."

His superior laughed heartily, something Harry felt was completely out of place given the situation but didn't point it out. "Every day you sound more like, Albus. He would be very proud of you, Harry, remember that." Harry nodded calmly. While being compared to Dumbledore was usually a huge compliment Harry knew that Kingsley was trying to cheer him up. Kingsley was probably feeling the same way he was about the two deaths, but knew that Harry had been the one in charge at the time.

They spent a moment in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, before Harry broke the silence. "How are we doing on those portkeys? Found any more among the Aurors?"

"Four," Kingsley answered triumphantly. "Have you got any particular dates in mind for this sting?"

"Yeah, I do, but so far they're all just ideas." Harry smirked evilly. "Oh, but Voldy won't know what hit him once this one's over." He resisted the urge to cackle like a maniac, but it was true. When Voldemort finally realized what had happened it would be too late and the Order would be one step closer to winning this damn war. If only he could get a memory of Voldemort's reaction at the news...

"Listen, Harry, I won't pressure you into anything," Kingsley began somewhat nervously, "but I would like to know what this whole scheme is about." Noting that Harry was about to interrupt he raised his hand. "Just listen, all right?" Harry nodded reluctantly. "Look, I understand it must be a pretty big thing for you to keep it a secret but I really don't like sending teams on stings I don't understand." Harry inwardly cringed. Kingsley was playing the I'm-the-responsible-General card.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as he wondered what to do. It seemed that he was really starting to act like Dumbledore, keeping his secrets close to heart and scheming all on his own. Well, he certainly understood why Dumbledore had acted the way he had. Granted, there were things that seemed pretty unnecessary, like never training Harry in combat, but the old man had, mostly, known what he was doing.

Harry looked up and met Kingsley's gaze. "Do you trust me, Kingsley?" Kingsley nodded slowly, as if afraid of what that confirmation would entail. "Then trust me on this one, please." Harry took a sip of water and placed the glass on the bedside table. "If this sting fails, all will be lost. The war will last forever." Kingsley's eyes widened. "There is something I have to do that will bring us a step closer to victory." Harry's gaze intensified as he spoke, trying to convey the importance of this moment. "All I ask is that you understand the importance of this mission." Kingsley nodded. "When we meet with the teams for a briefing I'll explain what we're doing and I'll tell you, and only you, why we are doing it. Is that better?"

Kingsley looked at him calmly but Harry knew that his mind was the opposite. "We'll do as you say, Harry. Please don't make me regret the confidence I'm putting in you." Harry nodded seriously,

"Well then," Kingsley said as he stood up, "I'll take a nap now, if you don't mind." Harry smiled and waved his hand airily. "I talked to Charlie yesterday and he says we could start any time now." Harry perked up at the news. This was just what he needed to get away from his thoughts. "I'd rather do this today," Kingsley continued, "but you have other responsibilities and I don't know if I want to do this without you. Maybe we could postpone this..." he trailed off seeing the look on Harry's face.

"Look, Kingsley, I'll show the place to those two, but it won't take all day." Kingsley nodded, reluctantly. "I'll talk to Neville when he wakes up and spend the morning with the muggleborn and her mother. After lunch I'll pick up a few fighters and we'll head to the mountains. Are you coming?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. I wouldn't miss this if I could but I have to arrange the funerals..." Harry closed his eyes sadly. Of course Kingsley had to see to the preparations, the leader always did. "It'll be at dusk today." Harry nodded. Kingsley walked towards the exit, dispelling the silencing ward on his way out, and looked back at Harry before he left. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow, Harry? The dragon won't go anywhere."

Harry didn't hesitate. "Thanks, Kingsley, but we'll do this today. We need that armor and Percy is getting quite annoying about it." It was just an excuse, and they both knew it, but Harry wasn't about to sit down with only his thoughts for company from dawn to dusk. He might as well do something useful with his time.

Kingsley sighed in resignation but didn't object. "Just make sure you're back before it begins, all right?"

"Sure, Kingsley. Go take a nap."

Kingsley gave him a last wave and disappeared through the double doors of the Hospital Wing. The room was silent once again, only interrupted by the sound of birds singing and owls hooting in their return from hunting. Harry resumed his slumped position with his hands locked behind his head and resigned himself for a long and uncomfortable wait.

He sat, motionless, for the better part of half an hour, thinking about the day before. Different images flashed through his mind but he ignored them in favor of analyzing the situation that had led to disaster. The main question was the following: How had the first group of DE's that had reached the scene spot Neville's team so quickly and unexpectedly? There was just something off with that scenario but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The eight of them had been well trained. They knew how to move, the best formations for the different situations, how to safely retrieve a muggleborn and other combat strategies that had been practically drilled into them by Kingsley, Severus and Filius. Harry had talked to Cho after the battle and she had said that no mistakes had been made. They had used a double-triangle formation, two in front and two in the back, while two others entered the house. So what had gone wrong if they, according to Cho, had been able to surround the group of four DE's as soon as they had arrived?

The key laid in finding out what had happened to Hunter, Harry was sure of it. According to Cho's and Hestia's briefing Hunter had been blasted before the real battle had even begun. So what had happened to him? If he had been under an invisibility cloak, how had he been spotted? Had he tripped? Had Voldemort or one of his investigators discovered a way to see past invisibility cloaks? There were ways, of course, but very few people could use a magical-eye like Moody had and, as far as Harry knew, only Dumbledore had been able to see through cloaks without any aid. So how had they done it?

The answer was only a step away from him, barely out of sight, as if mocking him from the dark corners of the Hospital Wing. He could almost close his fingers around it but, somehow, for some reason, it just eluded him.

It had been a long time since the Council had last asked for memories of the different stings and battles that occurred. They generally trusted their fighters to give a detailed account, without omitting failures and careless moves. But this merited an exception. Harry would have to ask for Hunter's memories so that he could see under the cloak and pin-point the mistake precisely. Something like this could never happen again.

No point in waking up Hunter now though, Harry thought as he watched the man sleep restlessly. He had taken a pretty serious hit with a Bludgeoning Curse and his spine had been severely injured, plus a few cuts and bruises in other parts of his body. Poppy assured him that everyone would be all right. None had taken life-threatening hits, except for Oliver and Leon...

Harry sighed heavily and resigned himself to wait a little more. He would get his answers soon enough. Although he didn't particularly care for a long wait in a silent room, he definitely wasn't looking forward to an even longer and more uncomfortable talk once his team members and Neville's woke up.

Harry leaned back in his chair, now sitting in his private ward, and summoned a pipe and a bag of the goblin's tobacco from their place on top of the fireplace. His wand glowed red for a moment and he took a long pull, letting the smoke slowly spread around him.

From outside the window the weather was probably mocking him, he decided. The sky was clear of all clouds, extending over the Valley like an inverted sea, an impressing contrast to his mood.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts and smoke his pipe before meeting with the muggleborn and her mother. The images of Neville's distraught state and tortured blue eyes, of Hestia's guilt-stricken face, of Fred and George's subdued mood, so eerily reminiscent of the day Ginny had been killed...they all dispersed in his mind, like the silvery smoke around him.

He began fantasizing about facing Voldemort again, to stare into the crimson eyes and have him stare into his own green ones, to finally be able to pay everything back to him. Would the Gryffindor in green win? Or would the Slytherin in red rule Britain forever?

Harry shook his head of those thoughts and left the room.

His feet barely made a sound as he walked down the east corridor of the Hospital, trying to focus on this upcoming meeting. Muggles were, without exception, impressionable people. Well, he had been one too, a long time ago, but he couldn't remember ever going into hysterics, all the while muttering about demonic possession when faced with a snake as a pet.

However, he did stop himself short of collecting his sarcastic and easily-irritable companion. He had precious little time to get this over with, Xen spent most of his time with Severus anyway and, he thought as he pushed the door open, he wasn't in the mood for girly hysterics either.

The room was just as ugly and scarcely furnished as his private ward. There was a small fireplace where only a few embers still burned, the only window was closed against the chilly, morning breeze and two beds had been placed against the farthest wall from the door. In addition to the white and steel furniture, there were two wooden chairs placed near the window, where the view showed the distant mountains and, below them, the almost frozen lake, reflecting the sun like a white mirror.

The two inhabitants of the room were currently perched on the chairs and, as he knocked and made his way inside, they turned to look at him. For a second Harry just studied their appearance and expressions.

The older woman had to be around forty. She had a warm, round face with big, round eyes, framed by a curtain of light-brown hair. The black eyes were usually warm, Harry decided, but now they held a chilly tint to them. She was wearing a long blue robe and, as she shifted uncomfortably and attempted to smooth the fabric on her lap, Harry guessed that she was probably uncomfortable in them.

The younger girl was slightly more interesting, and certainly not what he had expected. Unlike most muggleborns they encountered, who were usually around eight to eleven years old, she looked to be about his age, probably a bit younger. Why had her magic manifested only now? That was a question Harry decided to tackle later on, instead choosing to finish his assessment of the girl.

There was something slightly familiar that he couldn't quite place. It was the general air she had about her. She was certainly beautiful, he decided. Silky and long silvery-blond hair hung lazily past her shoulders and the contour of her breasts, not completely hidden by the thick, red jumper she was wearing, hinted of a slender and well-developed body. Her eyes were as black as her mother's and they too had the impression of being usually warm. But now they were slightly cold and with an allusion of curiousness that Harry, with a quick brush of Legilimency, realized was because of his own curious expression.

The three of them studied each other briefly, wondering what to make of the new acquaintance. Harry broke the silence first, attempting a polite tone of voice that came out rather strained. "Good morning, ma'am, Miss," he nodded to them. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm here to introduce you to our world and answer the questions you might have."

The younger girl narrowed her eyes but otherwise remained silent and seated. Her mother stood up slowly and extended her hand. "Joanne Novspter," she said and Harry shook her hand. "This is my daughter, Sophie." Sophie inclined her head in the briefest of nods and resumed her gaze outside the window. She jumped a little when an owl swooped down from a nearby branch and landed in the windowsill. It tapped the thick glass with its beak and the girl, deciding that the view wasn't as safe as she had previously thought, stood up beside her mother.

Harry nodded politely to her and curled a finger upwards. Both women jumped again as the window creaked open and the owl flew straight towards him, landing gracefully on his shoulder. "Morning, Tonee," Harry said. The owl hooted and puffed its chest outwardly, as if proud of being addressed by name. He chuckled fondly, thinking of Hedwig. "Amazing beings, owls," he said absentmindedly as he took the offered letter from Tonee's left leg. "Incredibly smart, loyal and able to locate most people with their keen sense of direction." He quickly skimmed over the letter. It was from Hermione, reminding him of tonight's impromptu meeting of the Council to discuss the new plan and recent happenings.

He looked up to see that Sophie and Joanne were watching him intently, their mouths slightly open. It was easy to forget that something as common as an owl would look like a mystery to a muggle. He gave them a sympathetic smile. "Takes some time to get used to, but you do." Harry gestured to Tonee, who was still sitting on his shoulder and looking imperiously at the muggles. "This is Hermione's owl. She's a friend of mine. Instead of walking up to me every time she needs to send me a message she just sends Tonee with a letter."

The muggle and muggleborn nodded dumbly and shook their heads out of their stupor. Harry, intending not to create much fuss by conjuring a chair, sat himself on one of the beds and gestured for them to return to the chairs. Tonee took flight from his shoulder and, with another little twitch from his finger, Harry closed the window against the chilly breeze. This time they didn't jump, but they did look at him curiously.

"I'm here to explain to you what has happened and where you are. You'll probably have a lot of questions but I'm here only to cover the most basic and important ones. I'm afraid that an in-depth explanation will have to wait till later." He sighed and looked at them apologetically. "There's a lot going on these days."

"So," he dragged the word, trying to adopt a cheerful and open expression, "has anyone told you anything yet? Perhaps you have deduced some facts by yourselves?"

Sophie snorted but, again, kept quiet as both women sat down. Harry frowned at her, tempted to take a peek so as to see what was going on inside her head. Clearly there was something he didn't know, apart from why she was so old. Before he could talk himself into trying again, Joanne spoke.

"A bold, black man came by yesterday. Said we were to be 'removed' and 're-settled' for our own safety." She gave him a withering look. "He explained something about men in black robes, muddleborns and a war, but we don't know anything about that! Sophie's an art student and I'm a house-wife! That man didn't say! Said he was busy for the night and left!" Suddenly her glare and frosty expression lost its force and she deflated, revealing how truly exhausted and anguished she was. "Please, sir, would you let us go already? We don't know anything and I'll swear we'll keep quiet. We just want to go home."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what to say to this distraught woman. Tears were already threatening to spill from her eyes and her daughter wasn't fairing any better. Sophie looked at him with hurt eyes and pulled an arm around her mother's shoulders.

"Please, listen to me," Harry said softly. "This isn't something we chose for you. I beg of you to pay attention to this story and you will understand."

On second thought, I would've preferred seeing hysterics rather than downright depression, Harry thought gloomily. For the next hour he had to force his mind to pick up on those repressed memories about the first civil war, its end, the death of his parents, Voldemort's second rise, the end of Hogwarts and the beginning of the second civil war.

It was a painful experience but it was his turn to tell the story and he reflected that just because he was the Harry Potter (he almost spat in distaste) it didn't mean he was exempt from his duties. Surely Remus had ploughed on with the key points for muggleborns to understand, whether telling the story of how his brothers had been murdered and betrayed kept him up at night or not.

He tried to put more emphasis in the reasons behind the civil war and its connection with the muggle world for them to understand. He remembered sadly how Hagrid had surely had fun showing Harry the wizarding world, but there was nothing amusing about his tale. Sophie and Joanne Novspter were being introduced to a nightmare, a world of deceit, discrimination, murder, corruption and war.

The story was truly a despairing one, Harry knew better than most, but he had never seen such a reaction from his audience. Maybe it had something to do with how he was feeling at the moment and how that reflected on his voice and expressions. Whatever it was, both women sobbed shamelessly throughout it, clutching to each other tightly and Harry had to often conjure tissues for them.

They didn't interrupt him once and, once the dam was broken, he couldn't stop speaking as they listened with rapt attention. "...so you would've been killed or, you know...if they had got to you before we did." Harry saw the horror dawn in their eyes. "This is one of the things we, the Order of the Phoenix, do. You will find a lot of people in similar situations here in The Valley. It'll take some time to adjust, I know, but you have a lot of people here to help you and anything you need will be provided."

As if to demonstrate, Harry flicked his wand and conjured three of his trademark arm-chairs and, with another flick, conjured a table with three sets of plates and cups and glasses. "Please," he gestured to the seats to his dumbfounded audience. They slowly complied, touching the conjured items in wonder as if to test their existence. "I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, Kreacher!"

A loud pop sounded beside him and his house-elf appeared, looking well-groomed and clean as usual. It bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly at the sight of the empty table and looked up at him with its big, wide eyes.

Sophie and Joanne nearly shrieked their way out of the chairs as Kreacher bowed and looked at them with questioning eyes. "Joanne, Sophie, this is Kreacher," Harry said. "Kreacher, these are my new guests. They will need a house with two bedrooms and all the usuals. For now though, we'd like some breakfast." He looked at the women. "Some toast, cereal, bacon and eggs? Anything you want."

They nodded jerkily and Kreacher bowed again. "House will be ready by tonight, Master Harry. Where should house-elves build Mistresses' house?" Harry considered it for a moment and then told Kreacher to build it near his own. He was quickly starting to feel responsible for their well-being and, if possible, happiness. "Yes, Master. Kreacher is bringing breakfast for Master and Master's friends." With another loud pop Kreacher disappeared and the women visibly relaxed.

"What was that?" Sophie asked, the first one to recover.

"House-elf," he explained. "If dogs are man's best friend, then house-elves are wizards'. They work for you without payment, mostly, because they enjoy it and take great pride on it. The more difficult the task is the more effort they put into it. As long as you treat them kindly and praise them on their work, you won't find any other being that can work as hard and loyally as them. Quite deadly in combat too, if I remember correctly," he added, thinking about that time Jilly, Blaise's house-elf, had ripped open the throat of a Death Eater that had been trying to sneak behind her Master's back in a reconnaissance mission.

It was a note of the hate Sophie and Joanne must have developed for Voldemort's followers that they didn't even flinch at the casual mention of murder. Kreacher popped into existence at that moment and placed the freshly-cooked breakfast on the table, disappeared again and they all tucked in eagerly.

They ate in silence, only the noise of chewing, drinking and the clinking of forks and knives interrupting it. Sophie had a sip of her tea and looked at him with curious eyes that had, thankfully, lost their coldness and anger.

"You say I'm a witch then," she said. Harry nodded, too busy chewing to speak. "And you mentioned there's a school for us, to teach us magic?" Her excitement was strewn all over her face and Harry hated to be the one to puncture her hopes.

"There is," he said carefully, putting down his cup. "I attended myself, when I was younger. But things have changed, Sophie. Hogwarts is not what it used to be." Harry sighed. "There was a battle, six years ago, one we lost. So many people..." he trailed off sadly. "At the time Hogwarts was the only safe place for us, the resistance, so that's where they attacked. We lasted a few days but in the end we weren't ready, and Voldemort is extremely powerful, the most powerful ever born since the Four Founders of the school and Merlin himself. We were forced to flee and settle here, setting up new protections with different races."

By now Joanne and Sophie had lost their interest in the food and were once again paying him their undivided attention. Harry gave them a tired a smile and gestured to the mountains, clearly visible through the closed window under the glistening sun. "Some goblins showed up and supported our fight. They live under those mountains. Clever beings, very clever. And very good at guarding things too. With their help, the house-elves and our own magic we set up the wards that protect us. Voldemort knows where we are but, for the last six years, he has failed in bringing them down. One day we'll have to leave, that much is clear, but until then we are quite safe here."

They nodded and finished their breakfast in silence. Harry, feeling quite full, checked his watch and noticed it was past eleven already. He had only an hour left before he had to round up the fighters that would go up against the dragon.

"I'm afraid I'll be quite busy this afternoon," he said as he lit his pipe, "but I have time till half past twelve. Would you like a tour of the place? I'm sorry to say you have no choice but to stay. You'll have to live here for a while but I guarantee the place is quite beautiful and the people very friendly."

The casual reminder that they were, in fact, practically war refugees brought both of them to a stop, forgetting about the mostly pleasant breakfast and the surreal tales about magic and strange creatures.

"Mr. Potter - Harry - there is no way out of this then?" Joanne asked, and Harry saw the last traces of hope already vanishing from her eyes.

"There isn't, ma'am, I'm truly sorry," he said. "But trust me, there's lots to do here, even if you're not a fighter. Let's take a look around the place, all right?" He stood up, took a last pull out of his pipe and vanished his chair. "You'll find people like you everywhere. Hell," he grinned at her, "there's even a group of women who formed a book club. You wouldn't believe the fun they have reading our history and comparing it to the muggle one."

In short order they were walking down the dirt streets of the Valley. There was practically no wind by now, only the faintest breeze that was enough to make one's hairs flutter lightly. The smell of fresh coffee and toast filled their nostrils and the chirping of birds and the occasional bark of a dog provided with a light-hearted background noise.

He couldn't have hoped for a better day to show these people around, Harry reflected as they passed one house after another. The pleasantly warm day and the friendly people walking about and calling greetings to them worked perfectly to show Joanne and Sophie that, while life had dealt them a bad card, things could change any minute and it could even be for the better.

"How do the new ones learn if we can't go to Hogwarts?" Sophie asked as they slowly walked through the village.

"The old mentor-apprentice relationship," Harry answered. "The real thing varies from mentor to mentor, but it basically means that you get assigned to someone who passes their experience on to you. There aren't any guidelines. Whatever he chooses for you to learn is what'll do. It isn't the best way, and that's why the tradition was lost over the years, but it's what we have."

"But there are so many of you," Joanne said, looking at him with a puzzled frown. "Surely there's someone who can entirely dedicate his or her time to teaching, right? You get all students in the same place and you have that same person teach them every day."

Harry shook his head. They had thought of that already. "That works as long as the students aren't very advanced. There are basics things that every wizard has to know but after a certain point it's up to them to decide what fields they would like to study. It'd be like having the same person to teach in your universities, for every single subject. There's no such person. Nobody knows everything about everything."

"That makes sense," Sophie interjected. "I'm sure my Philosophy professor knows squat about algebra." She suddenly looked sideways at Harry. "So what is your specialty? Or do you have more than one?"

"That's a complicated question...or rather, its answer is." He thought for a moment how best to explain his somewhat unique education. Sophie and Joanne waited patiently as they now walked through the more 'commercial' area of The Valley. The blacksmith gave Harry a friendly wave and he answered back with a "Morning, Randall."

"Combat, I guess," Harry suddenly said. "There are many branches of magic that we don't study here, mainly because we either don't need them or don't have someone who specializes in them." Sophie and Joanne nodded. "I've had four mentors, and you've met one of them already. Kingsley taught me strategy, formations and all-around combat. He used to be an Auror, like the muggle police, so he knows all about that. And we don't have a war expert but we have a Master in Duelling, ex-charms professor Filius Flitwick. He taught me specialized combat and battle-oriented charms. Deadly man, that one. If he wants to be."

Harry looked up as he walked and continued his explanation to the dumbfounded muggles, unaware that they probably understood very little of what he said. "Then I had ex-professor McGonagall tutor me in transfiguration-oriented dueling. She's not much of a dueler herself but her skill in the art is quite unmatched. Strict teacher though. Transfiguration's not my strong suit. Although that's not an excuse for Minerva. You either learn or keep trying till you do." He chuckled fondly. It had taken Ron and Harry almost six years to learn the animagus transformation, while Hermione had done it in less than eight months.

"And my last mentor," he outright laughed at calling Severus that, "was my ex-potions professor. Very acid person. Not one for chit-chat or a pleasant conversation. But he's a very talented man, in many ways. I never got the hang of potions though, and he's not the best of teachers. When we got to the Valley he tutored me in Dark Arts and defensive magic. He's like a walking library. Can't find a man who knows his stuff better than him. And quite powerful and creative too." In fact, some of Severus' self-invented curses were downright morbid, Harry thought.

"Excuse me for a moment, I need to talk to our local tailor over there," Harry said. Sophie and Joanne didn't even blink as he stepped into a shop full of furs and strange clothes. They were still too busy trying to understand half of what he had said.

He made his way around the towering piles of half-finished clothes and weird-looking instruments. All the lights were off since the tailor worked in the back of the house, out in the open. Warm sunlight bathed the creaking, wooden floor as he walked around, trying to spot the elusive woman.

"Hey, Sammy," Harry called loudly.

The tailor appeared from behind a giant pile of grey fabric, her hands full long, pure-white strings of hair. She was quite tall for a woman, at least as tall as Harry. She had a very long, sharp face which ended in a pointy chin. Her eyes were warm and soft, with a strange shade of orange to them. She usually wore a long cloak that fell past her ankles and was made from various types of fabric, and today was no exception. Brown, grey, blue, red, yellow and green strips of fabric had been woven in circles, making her look like a whirlwind of colour.

"Mornin', Harry," she said pleasantly, with a very heavy Scottish accent. "Got 'em cloaks almost ready. Me Bobby'll bring 'em to ya later."

"That's great, Sam, thanks," he said. "Listen, don't have much time right now, but I wanted to let you know we'll be getting some dragon hide today. Think you can make some armour? This is high priority."

She looked pleased to have new materials to work with, as she always did. "Sure, sure! Bring 'em in when you get it. How ya getting them hides? You bossy slave said no one's sellin' 'em anymore."

Harry grinned at her. "Percy stopped by? He sure takes his job seriously. Good thing he does, though. Anyway, yeah, can't buy them anymore but Charlie told us about a dragon flying around the mountains. We'll try to get him this afternoon. Drop the hides off right before dusk, all right?"

"Blimey, be waitin' for ya then. Careful with da beast, Harry."

"No worries, Sam. Thanks for the help. And remember I like green or red! And say hi to Bobby for me," Harry called and waved.

"My pleasure, sweetie. An', Harry," she said, and Harry stopped in mid-step, registering the change in her jovial tone. "Sorry about yer friends. Sad thing, very sad. Nice people."

Harry nodded and smiled sadly at her. Bad news really did travel fast, he thought as he left the shop. He put a stop to those thoughts, got a rein on his emotions and found his charges standing awkwardly outside, throwing nervous looks over their shoulders at the passing people and house-elves.

Joanne looked over at him and exhaled in relief, tugging on her daughter's arm as she made her way towards him. "Harry, would you mind if we cut the tour early? It's a lot to take in and we would like some time alone to talk about these new...developments." Harry noticed she indeed looked tired and remembered that they had been practically prisoners the night before. You don't get much sleep in those conditions.

"Not at all," he said kindly. "I'll take you to my place while they build your house. You can watch from there and be comfortable. It'll be quite the experience, I assure you." He beckoned them to follow, heading back the way they had come. They quickly fell in to step beside him.

"It's over there, on top of the hill," he pointed at his wooden hut, visible above most houses. "Do you have any questions so far? You've been fairly quiet," he commented.

Joanne looked at him for a second and then resumed her inspection of the place, taking in the colourful surroundings and the odd assortment of tasks the villagers were absorbed in. "There's a lot to think about. I guess the questions will come eventually," she said.

"I do have a question though," Sophie interjected before Harry could comment. "You said you were busy this afternoon, what are you going to do?" She noticed the look her mother was giving her and quickly backpedalled, blurting out a hasty apology. "I mean, not that I'm prying or anything, I was just curious. So if you can't say I'll understand. But maybe it's nothing important and I'd like to know what you people do around here. It must be terrible being stuck in this situation but I've seen some exciting things already, and maybe you're doing something like that? Can you tell us? "

Harry looked at her in amusement, a plan already forming in his head. He chuckled at her child-like expression of hopefulness and curiosity. "It's okay, Sophie. Some things we do aren't for the general public to know but there's no reason why I couldn't talk about this afternoon. In fact," he said, changing direction as he walked, "I'll take you to my friend's house. Her name's Hermione, the one I mentioned earlier, and she'll be able to explain anything you want. She probably knows more about this place and how it works than I do, so you'll get in-depth answers to your questions.

"And, if you really want to know," he said casually, pondering about what could come up in a conversation between Hermione and these women, "I'll be gathering some fighters and heading to the mountains. We need some armour for the teams and we're out of materials." He glanced to the left at Sophie's and Joanne's expressions, taking in their reactions to his next words. "We'll be hunting a dragon."

"A WHAT!?" Sophie shrieked. At the same time Joanne tripped and had to be caught by her daughter before she fell ungracefully to the ground. Harry turned and they both looked at him incredulously from their crouched position.

"Want to come?" he asked innocently. Joanne shook her head jerkily and Sophie nodded dumbly, her mouth half-open.

Harry grinned.

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, House of Elders, Meeting of the Council

Thursday 31st of October

"Settle down everyone. Let us get started," Minerva said loudly. One by one the Council members took their seats around the round, mahogany table. The polished wood groaned under the weight of bottles, maps, sketches, scrolls of parchment and, of course, Hagrid's massive elbows.

Harry took the closest seat next to Hermione and met her nervous eyes. He smiled confidently at her, shuffling a few pieces of parchment nearer to him, thinking about how best to explain this strange concept to a bunch of pure-bloods and wizard-raised people.

Severus took the last seat beside Minerva and silence gradually descended upon the gathered witches and wizards. The spectacular chandelier hanging above the table cast the room with warm light, making the white walls glow palely and the faces of the Council members to be half-shrouded in the shadows.

"Good evening, lady and gentlemen," Minerva began, "thank you for coming on such a short notice. This meeting was called by Hermione, who has, seemingly, come up with an idea on how to bypass the wards around Britain." There were some muttered comments of appreciation. "I have been briefed on the basics of this but," she looked a little embarrassed, "I'm afraid the concept is still unclear to me. Hopefully she will be able to present a simpler explanation so that we may follow and decide upon its viability. Hermione?"

Hermione stood up and cleared her throat nervously. "Well, like we talked about in our last meeting, I went through our records on the wards and discovered something very important that we may have missed in the past. Harry? Would you care to explain it? You were there for most of these, so it'll be better if you explain."

Harry looked at her for a moment, a little disorientated by the change of plans, but nodded. He stood up and gazed at his fellow fighters, trying to concentrate on the meeting and not on the events of a few hours ago - Oliver's mother's slap still stung his cheek. He was met with friendly, albeit sad, expressions, but he could still see some excitement shining in the eyes of his friends. They had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and they didn't even know how close they were to getting there.

"Hermione has been actively reviewing every one of our attempts to break out," he said calmly, "and she discovered something truly important: there is no way to bring down the wards. It's impossible." Harry smirked at the outraged expressions and the look of hopelessness that spread over most faces.

Severus spoke before he could continue.

"There is a way, Potter. Every enchantment, every ward, every curse can be countered. If you do not know what you are talking about I suggest you pack those scrolls and we can go back to our houses." His tone was acid, as usual, but Harry was surprised by the vehemence and confidence in the man's voice when he spoke about countering the wards.

He smiled slightly at him, making him frown in confusion. "Please, you misunderstood me. The wards are unbreakable, that much we know. Allow me to explain." He picked up the first scroll of parchment and read. "Friday 17th of August, 1999. Teams one and two took off from different positions towards the edge of the wards. They got as far as ten miles from the coast before they were stopped by the wards. Brooms are countered." He looked up and paused. "Flying is not an option. We've tried and failed before. We won't do it again. Second attempt."

Harry picked up the second piece of parchment and read. "Monday 25th of November, 1999. We have located two keystones that focus the power of the major wards. Teams two, three, four and five conducted strategic raids across the country. DE's and A's were distracted long enough for Team one to gain access to the first keystone. It was successfully disabled. However, the wards remained as powerful as always, and our teams failed when attempting to breach them using apparition, brooms, portkeys, portals and any other means of transportation, be it magical or physical. Ghosts and other metaphysical beings have been stopped as well. Power did not dilute from the destruction of a keystone."

Harry paused and looked up again, trying to read their expressions. Severus didn't look too pleased to be reminded about their failures, many of which he had planned himself. Kingsley looked politely skeptical. Ron looked pleased, happy that his wife had finally found a way and smug that his friend was making Severus mad. Harry gave up on his assessments and decided to get to the point.

"To wrap it up, what I'm trying to say is that there's no way for us to pierce the wards, be it forcefully, as attempted in August, or methodically, as attempted on November. Are we clear? There's simply no way."

"We got it, mate. Get on with the fun stuff. I never really get the hang of it," Ron said.

Harry nodded. "All right, here we go. If we can't breach them, then we'll evade them. Hermione?"

She took over from him immediately, afraid that Harry would mess things up, being too direct and brief. Harry leaned back in his comfortable chair, resting his head on the wooden back, and lit his pipe with a deft flick of his wand. Ron had anticipated his movements. It was their trademark way of silently saying that they knew what was going to happen, that they would enjoy it and that it was good, really good.

"Just like Harry says, we can't breach them so we'll dodge them. More precisely, we'll dive right under them." She gave everybody a bright smile of pride as they took the news in. Severus was the first to recover, the smart man, and voiced his opinion.

"We have tried passing under them before, Granger," he said impatiently. "The wards do not allow us to breach them nor dodge them. Five years ago, when we did not know as much about the Dark Lord's work, we attempted to dive under the ten mile boundary. Since you have been going over the records, I presume you know how that ended in disaster. While we are at it, may I remind you we lost Thomas in that raid?"

"Severus!" Minerva snapped. The rest hissed angrily at him.

Harry's face tightened as he glared at the man. He could have saved those memories for another time, or at least been a little more careful, especially with the funeral so recently. Hermione and Ron didn't look too happy either, the latter positively murderous at the sight of his frustrated wife. He took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly before standing up and pointing at the door. Harry's gaze lingered for a second in the joined hands and then travelled to Severus' face. Severus looked even angrier at the small gesture.

"We can take this outside, if you like," Ron suggested, barely concealing his anger. "Clearly there's something on your mind, though that is a surprise..."

Severus stood up, his chair clattering on the ground, and started to draw his wand. "Are you talking about minds, Weasley?" he taunted back across the table. "You, who cannot even understand your own wife's?" He suddenly smirked in triumph as Ron's expression darkened and his hand twitched towards his wand.

Hermione followed the banter with a puzzled frown and her hands automatically snaked around Ron's arm as he reached for his wand. He shoved her aside absentmindedly, his eyes trained on Severus, and pointed the wand at the man's heart while Severus did the same. They stared down at each other across the table, unaware of the reproving glares they were receiving or Hermione's futile attempts to break up the impeding fight.

Harry was trying to understand why Severus was acting so childishly. It had been a long time since he had seen him snap like that for no apparent reason. Actually, the last time had been back when they were enemies, before the Hogwarts Massacre...

"ENOUGH!" Harry and Minerva shouted almost at the same time.

Ron and Severus remembered that they did, in fact, have an audience and reluctantly stuffed their wands back into their pockets. Ron kissed Hermione's head and sat down. Severus glared at the couple for a second and then he too sat back down, pointedly avoiding the looks of outrage and confusion of the Council members and instead choosing to look up at the glowing chandelier.

"Let's get the meeting over with. It's been a long day." Harry looked at them significantly and his friend slowly nodded. Severus ignored him. Harry resolved to talk to him later.

Lupin and Arthur exchange looks of confusion and the latter said, "You were saying, Hermione?"

She cleared her throat anxiously, looked over at Severus, then at Ron and shook her head. "Anyway, our safest bet is to avoid the wards as much as possible. Completely, if we can. As Severus pointed out," Ron didn't even bother to muffle a snort of distaste, "it has been tried before. However, on that occasion, we tried to dive right under the barrier. What I propose to do is to dive inland and resurface twenty miles past the barrier."

Many in the audience exchanged incredulous looks but otherwise remained silent. It was a well-known fact that Hermione tended to explain methodically and progressively, meaning that absolute comprehension only came about the time she was finished.

Hermione pulled out a navigation chart from under her piles of documents and spread it over the table. She pointed to the mountains of Scotland, a mostly brown blur that had no real importance to sailors. "This is where we are. From here," she traced her finger in a line towards Hogwarts, "we go to Hogwarts. Once we're there we will dive in the lake and follow the underwater tunnels that connect it to the open ocean. We should keep track of our position so that we can tell when we're past the barrier and -"

"Just a second, Hermione, please," Bill interrupted. "I followed till you mentioned diving in the lake. First off, how do you know that that lake connects to the ocean? And are you planning on using gillyweed? I'm not sure if you can consume more than one per week, let alone one per hour. There's something highly toxic about them that Neville or Poppy probably can tell us about."

Minerva nodded her agreement. "How were you planning to get around that, Hermione? I gather that you do, indeed, have answers to those questions?"

Hermione smiled.

"Do you remember the Triwizard Tournament?"

The audience frowned in confusion. Harry re-filled his pipe and took a long pull out of it. One by one he blew out small, silver rings of smoke that either dissipated quickly or hang suspended in the air. He glanced sideways, past Hermione's excited face, to Ron, who was re-filling his pipe too. Ron met his gaze and grinned.

"Viktor Krum, Durmstrang," Ron said the name cheerfully, a rare happening those who really knew him would say.

"What about him?" Lupin asked.

Hermione grabbed a second piece of parchment that looked like a newspaper and read.

"...while the Durmstrang students and their distinguished Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, arrived yesterday at Hogwarts to take part in the Triwizard Tournament. Rumours about the foreign school are flying all over the place but, perhaps, the most surprising of all is that the Durmstrang delegation of students arrived in a giant ship. Students from Hogwarts have written to their parents about said ship, claiming that it had surfaced from right under the lake. This reporter has not, as of yet, confirmed this story, but..."

She looked up and saw comprehension dawning in their eyes. "Exactly," she said proudly. "Durmstrang arrived at Hogwarts from under the lake, in a wooden ship. This means that there is some kind of passage between the lake and the ocean. I know for a fact that the depths of the lake are also protected against apparition and portkeys." She smiled brightly. "It didn't just materialize there. It sailed."

"All right, this is making more sense now," Kingsley said slowly and furtively glanced at Severus' brooding expression from the corner of his eye. "We break into Hogwarts, dive in the lake and resurface past the outer barriers. Correct?" Hermione nodded and smiled. "Sounds good to me. Just let me know how many fighters you will need and with what specialized skills. I see no objections here."

"Brightest witch of your generation," Lupin said proudly. "I have said it many times."

"My son married a genius!" Arthur said with a straight face. Ron's cheeks turned a light pink colour but otherwise showed no reaction to what would have ensured a face like a tomato in the past.

Minerva nodded seriously. "I too, so far, see no objections. However, would you mind explaining how we will dive, if gillyweed is not an option?"

Harry glanced at Hermione and saw her hesitation. This was probably going to be the hardest part of the plan to explain.

"A submarine," she said slowly.

"A what?" Percy spoke for the first time, unable to keep the confusion and frustration out of his voice when faced with something he didn't understand.

"Well, you see, it is a muggle invention," she explained patiently. "Muggles use it to submerge to explore the bottom of the sea." The wizards still looked completely lost. She sighed. "It's like a huge, hollow artifact made with different alloys that has enough space to store people inside. It works similarly to Durstrang's ship, I suppose. We could recreate their ship but without someone to explain the technical workings of it..." she trailed off.

"I see," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Our best chance is to create our own device, whether it is similar to that ship or not. As long as it works I do not see a problem. Everyone agree?"

"Indeed. Excellent job, Hermione. Truly astounding and creative," Minerva said with a rare smile on her face. Hermione looked like she could burst with pride. "Before we part, I would like to hear the general layout you have in mind for this...device that will take us underwater."

Harry perked up at this, finding himself interested as well. Hermione had hinted about needing his help to build or, at least, operate the device, but hadn't yet told him how it was supposed to work. He looked expectantly at her.

"Wards," she said immediately. "I was planning on using a two-way protection ward to submerge and then to resurface. If we were to gather enough power," she glanced at Harry, "to sustain a ward that can block physical matter from penetrating, the ship would sink to the bottom. If we negate the ward after we've submerged the air contained inside the device should, in theory, be enough to bring us back to the surface." She paused, looking at their reactions. "I haven't looked into building a propeller yet, or any other way of propulsion for the ship, but I'm confident that diving in and out can be solved by the use of wards."

"Brilliant," breathed Bill after a few seconds of stunned silence. "Absolutely brilliant. A Materia-Murus ward can do the job. It's surprisingly easy to erect but the higher the pressure it has to counter, the more power we would need. As long as Harry is up to the task of sustaining it there shouldn't be any problem."

Harry nodded slowly. He was fairly sure that he could sustain such a ward against the underwater pressure but he was worried against possible attacks once they had resurfaced at sea. Voldemort wouldn't just let them leave. As soon as they breached the wards at Hogwarts he would show up and, when he saw them diving in the lake, he would make the connection and wait for them outside the barrier. What would happen if Voldemort attacked the ship and Harry was too exhausted from sustaining the Materia-Murus ward? They would have to find a solution to that later.

"Very well, lady and gentlemen," Minerva intoned clearly, "are there any objections to this plan of action? None? Unanimous then." She leaned sideways to have a whispered conversation with Severus. He wasn't very responsive, only nodding slowly with a dark look on his face. She nodded and looked at Hermione. "You have permission to proceed with the preparations. We will give this project top priority. Any resources you need, be it human or material, feel free to ask for them and they will be provided immediately." She looked pensive for a moment. "I think Filius is done with those Blasting-Rods he mentioned. I suggest you discuss the matter with him."

Hermione nodded and Minerva looked over at the assembled members of the Council. "Any questions, suggestions or comments?" Nobody spoke. "Hagrid? You have been quiet so far. Do you have anything to add?"

Hagrid looked up, surprised to be addressed for such an important issue, and shook his head jerkily. "Nuthin' to add, professor. Yeh won't find any dangerous creatures down there." He paused for a second and scratched his overgrown beard. "Should say that the bottom of the ocean is a dangerous place, very dangerous, but yeh won't find any problems close to tha surface." He looked at Harry and smiled, revealing his yellowing teeth. "Hogwarts' lake's very safe too. Nuthin' there. Only mermen could give ya trouble but they know ya, Harry. Soon as they see ya they'll let you through. Got fantastic memory, them mermen, never forget a face, they don't."

Harry grinned at him, overall pleased with the outcome of the meeting.

It didn't take long for the Council members to file out, calling their goodnights to the others. He waited patiently by the fireplace, leaning against the warm, white marble that encompassed the burning logs. "A word, Severus, please," he said calmly when he saw the man was about to leave too.

Severus halted in mid-step and stood against the wall, looking quite calm and collected. Harry waited until they were alone and raised a silencing charm inside the room. "Drink?" he asked casually as he poured himself a measure of mead from the fancy tray left by the house-elves. He poured another for Severus and took the huge arm-chair by the fire while Severus sat on the couch. He suddenly found himself feeling like Dumbledore, attempting to keep peace between allies that disliked themselves and yet shared the same goal.

He shook himself free of the ridiculous idea and looked avidly at Severus over his glass.

"Explain yourself."

Severus looked at him impassively, even politely bored. "I do not need to explain myself to you, Potter. My business is exactly that," he drawled lazily. "However, if you would like to play the hero who becomes a peacemaker, I suggest talking to the goblins. Have you heard about the latest feud between them and our resident centaurs? Apparently the underground is not enough space anymore."

Harry clapped patronizingly. "Very good, Severus, very good. Do you practice your lines beforehand? There is quite a big mirror in your living room. Is this the reason? Your facial expressions were very convincing as well," he commented casually.

Severus' eyes twitched almost imperceptibly but otherwise remained composed. Harry had to admit it to himself; he had always been jealous of the composure the man had. Years and years of pretending, lying and scheming had shaped him in ways that not even the best trained Aurors could even dream of. But Harry knew which buttons to push to make him talk, an unavoidable consequence of having known him and interacted with him for so many years in an almost friendly way.

"Do you think it is going to work?" Severus asked unexpectedly.

"It has to," Harry answered without thinking, "but don't change the subject. You're avoiding my question."

"Indeed, Potter, and so are you."

They stared at each other in silence. The embers burned soothingly in the fireplace in the otherwise quiet room. Neither made a move to speak, contenting themselves with sipping from their glasses and delving into their own thoughts.

"It will," Harry suddenly said. "We know the path from the lake is there and that the outer wards only detect diving within the surface of the sea. We will have to charm the whole ship to become a portkey as soon as we're past the boundary. As long as we don't risk a battle in the ocean we should be fine."

Once again he felt silent and Severus didn't reply, too busy mulling over what Harry had said and what he had heard from Hermione at the meeting. Harry waited patiently for him to reply, as he knew he would, and busied himself by debating on whether or not he should visit the graveyard again, this time by himself.

Severus cleared his throat and pulled him out of his thoughts. "What happened tonight will not happen again," he said slowly, as if the words had cost him a lot of effort. Harry nodded. That was as close to an apology Harry would get from him, let alone Ron and Hermione.

"Good night, Severus," Harry said without preamble and walked towards the exit.

"Potter," Severus called hesitantly. Harry stopped but didn't turn around. Severus was silent for a moment. He finally spoke in a pain-filled voice. "Don't waste the time you have. If there is something you want, go ahead and get it. Otherwise you might regret it someday."

Harry froze in his place. It was the first time Severus had given him any kind of advice and the tone of his voice suggested he wasn't it saying lightly. What had spurred such an ominous comment? He mulled it over but couldn't understand why. He looked over his shoulder at Severus.

The man's face was lined with resentment and self-hate. Harry had an idea of what it was that Severus regretted the most but it still struck a chord to hear it so vehemently. He filed away the piece of advice he had given him and nodded.

Severus nodded back and Harry left the room.

Headuarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Graveyard

Thursday 31st of October

The wind howled persistently, drowning out every other sound as he walked towards the iron-wrought gate. The leaves-less trees shuddered and their branches fought against each other under the blue-black, cloudless sky.

The tall hooded figure made its way through the graveyard, walking with the air of a man who had visited the same place many times before. With practiced ease he dodged around the tombstones, his eyes flashing from name to name, ignoring the resentment that swelled in his heart.

Like many times before, the man stopped at a few particular tombstones and, with a precise flick of his wand, deposited bouquet after bouquet of yarrows. He kept walking, farther from the gates, until he came to a stop in front of one of the first tombstones ever laid down in the graveyard. It had been placed very close to a second tombstone, a larger one, representing the bond between mother and child. They were both connected by an arc of white marble, engraved with fiery-red lines that travelled from the bottom to the top, where a single, large ruby had been incrusted in the stone.

He kneeled by the tombstone and closed his eyes, slowly and softly caressing the marble stone with his fingers, taking in the texture. It was immaculate as always. No one would dare even scratch the masterful work of the artist.

Harry took his time to open his eyes. His cheeks and eyes were dampened with tears, making the words carved in red look blurred. He swiped them away with the back of his hand and sniffed noisily.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly. "I'm so sorry."

A strangled sob left his throat as his eyes raked over the words.

They read:

Molly Prewett Weasley & Ginevra Molly Weasley

A great heart can walk over giants.

Forever, everlasting love.

He looked gloomily at the carved words until he regained his composure. With a last wave of his wand he conjured some pink Tulips and Carnations over Molly's headstone and a bouquet of Amaryllis on Ginny's.

With a last, longing look at the empty space beside Ginny's final resting place Harry turned around and walked back towards his house. On the way back he thought about those that he had loved and were now gone. It was beginning to dawn on him that, at some point, the balance had shifted. Harry had more people waiting for him in the afterlife than loved ones still alive.

It was a depressing thought, knowing that little by little those that he cared about were dying, all of them murdered. At least, he reflected morbidly, it would be one hell of a party once he finally got there. And he was sure that he could bring guests.

He had a certain bastard with red eyes and a white face on his mind.