The War for Souls

Chapter 2--The Escape

Tampering with my guardians! Not getting me away to harm me, getting me away to kill Aunt Petunia and break the spell forever.

"BOY! This has something to do with your kind, doesn't it?"

"Voldemort," whispered Harry, feeling more defeated than he had since Sirius died. I wonder if they put Uncle Vernon under the Imperius Curse. No, probably just planted the idea, it goes along with what he's like anyway.

Vernon had pulled the car up in front of the house, which looked in reasonably good shape--except for the six wizards in front of it--and had jumped out to run inside. Harry was somewhat shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen any sort of affection out of Vernon Dursley at all.

It was no surprise at all when Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged from the knot of what Harry knew to be Order members and held up a hand to stop Vernon from entering.

And it was even less of a surprise when Vernon turned to the car, in full view of the neighbors, the six wizards on his front lawn, and the evening paper man--who was standing and staring at the Dark Mark above the Dursley residence--and screamed. "POTTER! YOU DID THIS!"

Oh, bugger. "No, Uncle Vernon. But I didn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"OHO! You think you can attack my family and just get away with saying I'm sorry!"

"Uncle Vernon, I was at work--" Before Harry could finish his sentence, Vernon's fist connected with Harry's jaw, and he felt the bone break. Harry dropped to the ground, and watched as at least two stunning spells--plus one he didn't recognize--hit Vernon in the back. The clump of wizards separated, and Harry could make out Kingsley, Remus, Moody, Bill Weasley, and another two that he couldn't identify. Lupin rushed over to him.

"Harry, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern.

"I urigh'." Harry could barely form the words through his broken jaw. "Ju."

"Emmendo!" Harry felt the bone shift back into place, although it was still sore. "That ought to hold you until we can get a healer. We wanted to wait for you before...well, I think...inside..."

"I know. Just...let's go." He strode to the door and pushed, but nothing happened. The door didn't move. "Remus?"

"No, we didn't seal it. I wonder if they did." He pulled out his wand and cast an opening spell at the door, to no effect.

"Well," said Moody, clumping to the front of the porch. "Stand back. REDUCTO!" The front door flew back, blasted off its hinges by the spell, and landed in the hallway. "Potter, you first."

Harry fought down the rising bile in his chest and stepped manfully through the front door of his erstwhile home. It was silent--eerily so. The first thing Harry saw was the television. It had been blasted with a Reductor curse that had blown the thing apart. He glanced around the sitting room. It was obvious that everything Muggle in the place had been blasted or destroyed somehow--from the television to the stereo to Dudley's boxing trophy. "Awful," muttered one of the wizards Harry didn't know, and Remus dared to open the door to the kitchen.

Harry looked around his father's friend into the kitchen, and saw what he had been dreading since he had entered the subdivision. Petunia Dursley, his mother's last surviving relative, lay face up on the floor, her eyes cold and unblinking, her body unmarked and whole--an obvious victim of the Killing Curse. Behind her, his body curled in a fetal position, was Harry's cousin Dudley, dead as well. Harry turned away from the bodies of his relatives and vomited all over Aunt Petunia's usually spotless kitchen floor.

*****

Albus Dumbledore reclined into his chair in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had just finished a lengthy fire-call from Amelia Bones, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement department, and was looking forward to a few moments meditation--perhaps assisted by his Pensieve--before the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix that evening.

But the very moment that he closed his eyes, he heard a horrid screech come from the open window behind him and watched as a black raven swooped in and dropped a red envelope on his desk. Dumbledore was no stranger to Howlers, but to have one delivered by a raven was an odd thing, indeed. He cautiously sliced it open with a silver letter opener, and listened as a horrid hissing voice filled his chambers.

DUMBLEDORE, YOU FOOL! DID YOU THINK BY HIDING THE BOY WITH THOSE FILTHY MUGGLES YOU COULD PROTECT HIM FROM ME? HAH! AS THOUGH A MUGGLE COULD STAND UP TO THE GREATEST SORCERER IN THE WORLD! EVEN NOW, THAT FOOLISH OLD BLOOD MAGIC HAS BEEN BREACHED! GIVE UP NOW, OLD FOOL!

Dumbledore had heard enough. "Destructo." The letter exploded into tiny pieces at the spell, and the voice ceased. There was no mistaking the sender, nor the knowledge that he was not bluffing. That was not Voldemort's style. Dumbledore closed his eyes again, and forcibly calmed himself as a single tear escaped his eyes.

*****

As Harry continued to vomit on the floor of Number Four, Privet Drive, Alastor Moody was clunking outside as fast as his wooden leg would carry him. He stumped his way down the walk, outside the anti-apparition wards that had been put up around the Dursley house, past the still-unconscious form of Vernon Dursley, and disappeared.

A moment later, he reappeared in front of Number Seven, Wisteria Walk, the home of Arabella Figg. The old Squib was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and the primary guard over Harry when he was with his Muggle relatives. Moody was concerned for her. It would be totally unlike her to allow Death Eaters to slip into Privet Drive without her knowledge, even if she was unable to do magic to defend the place.

As he walked past the invisible barrier which prevented apparition on her property, he saw the most disconcerting sight of the whole disconcerting afternoon. One of Arabella's kneazles--the cat-like creatures which monitored the neighborhood with her--was lying, stone dead, behind the hedge.

"Arabella!" No answer. He pounded on the door. "Figg! Open up!" The door creaked open, and Moody was stunned speechless. The old woman lay on the floor, barely alive. Blood dripped from her mouth, and her eyes were rolled back into her head. This was no time for Ministry restrictions. Moody grabbed a vase off the table by her door, and quickly transfigured it into a portkey. Muttering a stasis spell, he touched her finger to the vase and transported the two of them to St. Mungo's hospital.

The minute they arrived in the lobby of St. Mungo's, a mediwizard rushed forward. "Cruciatus," said Moody gruffly, hiding the emotion in his voice. "Get her taken care of, quick!" As the wizard levitated Arabella's body down a hallway, Moody shouted after him. "She's a Squib, Billis!"

*****

Harry was just getting back to his feet when Mad-Eye's voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of Remus' lapel. "Remus! Arabella got attacked! I've taken her to St. Mungo's! Get Potter back to Headquarters on the double!"

"Mrs. Figg?" said Harry weakly. "No..."

"Harry," said Remus, bending to touch his shoulder. "Can you get your things?"

"They're in the bedroom," he mumbled. "Go ahead." Remus nodded to Bill and Kingsley, and the two men walked up the stairs to Harry's room.

"We have to go to Grimmauld Place. Are you okay with that?"

"I guess," he said. "Not much of a choice, is there?"

Remus didn't answer, but a moment later, Bill came down the stairs, levitating Harry's trunk in front of him. "Nice of you not to have unpacked, Harry," he said, forcing a smile. "But why did you have a letter from my baby sister sitting on your pillow?"

"Bill," said Remus sternly. "Not now. Harry, can you fly?"

"I doubt it," he said truthfully. "I don't feel very well."

"Alright. Kingsley, you're the only one who can make a portkey, so if you would. Bill, Dan, revive Mr. Dursley and try to reason with him. If he turns violent, freeze him and take him to Morag to be held until he calms down."

Kingsley held out a frying pan to Harry, and he touched it, along with Remus and one of the other men. He felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and the house on Privet Drive vanished from his sight as he tumbled into the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

*****

Of all of the magical methods of defense available to the wizarding world, Severus Snape had decided that he intensly disliked anti-apparition wards. They were horribly inconvenient, and Dumbledore relied on them far too much. And he hated having to apparate in the middle of Grimmauld Place and walk up to the front door of Number Twelve for Order meetings. It would have been far simpler to merely apparate into the kitchen of the house, where the meetings were held. So Severus was already in a foul mood when he tapped lightly on the knocker, and the door swung open to reveal Molly Weasley. "Is the Headmaster here?" he said curtly.

"He's in the kitchen. For goodness sake, keep your voice down. We don't want her to start up."

"I suppose not." He followed the red-haired woman down the stairs to the stone-walled kitchen, and found the core of the Order of the Phoenix already assembled, waiting for him.

"Ah, Severus, glad to see you," said Dumbledore. "Please, we were just waiting to hear your report before deciding on our next step."

"As you already know," said Snape without sitting down, "a group of Death Eaters took advantage of Mr. Potter's absence from his relatives' house today, and attacked the Muggles. His aunt and her son were killed. As Vernon Dursley is not a blood relative of Potter's mother, the protections have been destroyed. In addition, Arabella Figg was tortured under Cruciatus for a significant period of time, and is in St. Mungo's. I do not know whether she will ever make a full recovery." Apparently, not everyone knew this already, as the looks around the table were mixed between shock, horror, and anger.

"Did Voldemort order the attack?" asked Remus Lupin.

"Yes, the Dark Lord did order the attack, and he apparently sent word of it to Professor Dumbledore upon its successful completion. He seems to take a perverse pleasure in irking the Headmaster. I have information that also indicates that, remarkable though it may seem, Potter was not in the least to blame for being out of the house. As an aside, is he here?"

"Upstairs," said Molly. "I gave him some Dreamless Sleep Potion, he should be awake in the morning."

"Very good," said Snape. "It would seem that Lucius Malfoy, in an attempt to recover from the debacle caused by Potter and his friends at the Ministry, placed Dursley under some form of suggestibility spell--although not the Imperius Curse--and that resulted in Dursley forcing the boy to obtain a Muggle job outside the house."

"Harry said his uncle wanted him to pay his own way," said Remus. "We had a guard on Harry, but we never thought they would attack the house while he was gone. It didn't make sense."

"Lupin, it would seem that the Dark Lord is slightly more intelligent than you give him credit for," said Snape bitterly. "He assumed that we would have a guard on the boy, and he decided that killing Mrs. Dursley would destroy the blood protection forever--which, I might add, it has done."

"The question, then," said Dumbledore, "is how best to protect Harry since we cannot now rely on that which has served us so well."

"Headmaster, if I may add one more thing," said Snape. Dumbledore nodded for him to proceed. "The Dark Lord has become somewhat obsessed with destroying not only Potter, but his friends who were with him at the Ministry. He believes that it is due to their interference that he failed to obtain the prophecy, and that the Ministry is no longer a silent ally of his."

"That is to be expected," said Dumbledore. "What do you recommend?"

"I would suggest that we place Potter and his friends in a safe house, much as this is, under the Fidelius Charm, until the beginning of the school year. It would be the best way to ensure that they are not in unreasonable danger."

"That's an idea," said Moody. "Creative. I like it."

"What about their families?" said Molly. "Harry doesn't have any, and I suppose we're alright, being in the Order and all, but Hermione's parents are Muggles. And Mr. Lovegood is a target for You-Know-Who already, thanks to the article he published last year. And I don't know about Neville's family."

"We've already got a guard on the Grangers," said Moody. "They're being watched continually by two Order members. But we don't have the manpower to guard qualified wizards. And Longbottom's parents are as safe where they are as we could ever make them."

"Thank you, Alastor. Molly, do you think you can arrange for Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood to join us. Perhaps at The Burrow."

"Albus, I don't think that it would be wise to have the children hidden there," said Remus. "But my parents had a place in Wales that we might be able to use. They left it to me when they died, and I haven't used it but rarely."

"Another consideration, Headmaster," said Snape. "If you are planning to place the children under Fidelius, you should find a Secret-Keeper who would not be easily linked to them. The Dark Lord, as you may have noticed today, will not be easily fooled."

Dumbledore held up his hand to stop the discussion. "Very well, I think we have a plan. Molly, if you could take Harry back to The Burrow with you in the morning, and ask Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood to join you there?" Molly nodded. "Alastor, would you be willing to serve as Secret-Keeper for the children?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful. And Remus, do you suppose you could go to this house in Wales this evening and make it ready for the children to stay there? And would you also be willing to keep an eye on them, as I think they would trust you more than the rest of us, and you would alert less suspicion than, perhaps, Molly or Arthur?"

Remus smiled. "Certainly. I'll be leaving now, then." He left the kitchen and Severus heard the front door shut softly behind him.

"Albus," said Molly softly. "I'm worried for him. He's just lost the closest thing to a parent he ever had, and now he's lost every relative he's ever had..." Severus couldn't handle any more sentimentality. He curtly took his leave of the Headmaster, and departed up the stairs.

*****

Harry felt himself being gently woken. "Harry? Harry, dear, time to get up."

"Just a minute, Aunt Petunia." What? Aunt Petunia was never that gentle. Aunt Petunia's dead. "Who's there?" He sat bolt upright in his bed, and saw the caring face of Mrs. Weasley standing by his side. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Harry, dear, how are you doing?"

"Better than I might," he said wryly. "How's Uncle Vernon."

"He's been taken into custody by the Order. More for his protection than anything. And he's still in quite a state, dear. Not that you could have done anything," she added hastily.

"Mrs. Weasley, if I'd been there..."

"Don't even think it, dear. If you'd been there, you would have been killed, too. This is the fault of You-Know-Who and Lucius Malfoy." Harry saw a gleam of hatred in the kind woman's eyes as she said the last name. Harry knew why, too. Malfoy had been the mastermind behind the plot that nearly killed her daughter in Harry's second year.

"Are Ron and Ginny here?" said Harry, forcing his mind onto more pleasant subjects.

"No. We're going to The Burrow as soon as you feel up to Floo travel, though."

Harry leapt from his bed as though he had been shocked, then stopped suddenly. "Mrs. Weasley, if they attacked Privet Drive, then..." The sentence trailed off. He didn't want to say the thought that was racing through his mind.

"Don't worry, Harry. The Burrow is perfectly well protected. I doubt Merlin himself could get in uninvited the way Albus has it warded." Harry knew she was exaggerating, but if Mrs. Weasley felt secure...

"You know," he said as he pulled on his trainers. "I never liked them, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"I know, dear, I know. Come on and let's get home, Ron will be spare with worry by now." Harry smiled thinking of his best friend's concern.

Harry didn't like the spinning and whirling of Floo travel, but having travelled by portkey--which was infinitely more nauseating--after having vomited repeatedly the night becore, he was in no mood to complain. He followed Mrs. Weasley into the fireplace, then followed her out into the kitchen of her home, just in time to be hit with a flying, red-haired cannonball.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, prising his friend off him.

"RON! He's here!" Harry heard the thunder of footsteps on the rickety stairs, and saw his best friend tear around the corner into the kitchen.

"Harry, are you alright? Bill said they attacked--"

"I'm fine, mate. The Dursleys aren't, but I am."

"What happened?" said Ginny, but Harry shook his head.

"Later."

"Now, children, go into the sitting room and I'll have Hermione and Luna come in and join you when they get here," said Mrs. Weasley.

"What, Hermione's coming?" said Ron, a look of sheer terror on his face.

"Why, yes, Ron, but I think I best let Professor Dumbledore explain it to you."

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door, and everyone ran to get it. But instead of Hermione, it was Luna Lovegood, who looked as surprised as ever. "Why, hello, Harry," she said, seeing him off to the side. "I didn't expect to see you here. Hello, Ronald." She breezed past Harry and Ron, and into the sitting room.

They hadn't even time to react before Hermione and Remus Lupin tumbled into their midst, clutching a copy of the The Collected Works of Shakespeare.

Hermione jumped up and rushed to wrap Harry in a hug. "HARRY! Are you alright? We've been so worried about you. And when Professor Lupin said--"

"Geez, Hermione, let the man breathe," said Ron.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Remus," said Mrs. Weasley, "is Albus coming?"

"No, Molly, 'fraid not. He's had to go into the Ministry today--Wizengamot business. I'm going to explain it to this lot, and then we get to go fetch Neville from his grandmother."

"Explain what?" said Ron.

"Molly, I'm sorry, but I have to be careful. Murus Silencio!" A thick cloud seemed to descend on the sitting room, leaving Mrs. Weasley on the outside. "Now, Harry, I don't mean to override your freedom, but this is what's happening. Voldemort has become rather obsessed with destroying not only you, but also everyone who was at the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, guys, I--"

"Harry, shut it," said Ron. "We begged to go, remember."

"Be that as it may, what's done is done," said Lupin. "Now, Harry, the remainder is for you to tell. But remember that your friends are your strength, and to rely on them."

"Do you know it?"

"Sirius told me," he admitted. "Last year, while we were holed up in Grimmauld Place."

"How did he know?" said Harry, his eyes flashing.

"Relax, Harry. When it was clear that you were the person spoken of, Dumbledore told your father. When he went into hiding, he told Sirius--in case anything happened to your parents."

"Told what?" said Hermione. "What's this all about?"

Remus looked pointedly at Harry. "Your strength, Harry."

Harry nodded, and looked at his friends. "You know about the prophecy that was made about me before I was born." They all nodded. "Well, the record was smashed--thank Merlin--in the Ministry two weeks ago. But there was another record of it--in the memory of the person who heard it."

"Who heard it?" asked Ron.

"Dumbledore. Trelawney--go figure--gave the prophecy back before I was born."

"I knew that," said Hermoine. Harry looked at her, astonished. "Well, the little ball said S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. And I remember reading somwhere that Dumbledore's full name was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. A.P.W.B.D. So I figured he must have heard it. Then I realized that Professor Trelawney must have given it--her initials are S.T., and she gave that prophecy about Sirius and Wormtail in our third year, remember, Harry?"

"Of course. Well, anyway, Dumbledore told me the prophecy--or, rather, showed it to me in his Pensieve." He got a distant look in his eyes, and thought back to the horrible night after the Battle at the Ministry. "The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches...born as the seventh month dies...born to those who have thrice defied him...and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"Harry..."

"I know, Hermione. I have to kill Voldemort, or die at his hand. There's no other way."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but instead flung her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh, Harry," said Ginny quietly, hugging him from the other side. "How awful for you."

"If you guys want to...what was it Percy said...sever all ties with me, I understand."

"Are you daft," said Ron. "You need us now, more than ever. Face it, mate, you're stuck with us, for better or worse."

"Harry," said Luna, her voice uncharacteristically taut, "we believe in you."

"Thanks, guys, I...I can't..."

"Your strength, Harry," said Remus. "The power the Dark Lord knows not."

"My friends," he said, finding his voice again. "All of you," he added, smiling at his father's last remaining friend.

"Now, Harry, because of the attack on Privet Drive, we have had to come up with another rmeans of protecting you. I have a house in Wales that my parents kept as a summer cottage. It's always been unplottable and warded heavily--no one wanted to come across a nine or ten year old werewolf unsuspectingly--and we're placing it under the Fidelius Charm. All of you, along with Neville, are going to stay there until the school year begins. It's the best idea we could come up with, what with the uncertainty around Sirius' will and the instability in the Ministry."

"Why do you feel the need to watch me constantly?" said Harry. "If I have to fight Voldemort, why is the Order keeping me under lock and key?"

"Harry, don't you understand. We're not keeping you from doing anything. If you were to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, and Voldemort attacked you, would you be ready to fight him?"

Harry shook his head. "Then you understand. The Order exists to protect you, Harry. We're buying you the time you need to prepare to defeat him. And, if I might say so myself, the time you need to live a somewhat normal adolescence."

Harry's friends laughed at this, and he couldn't help but join in. "The darkness can be pierced only by a stronger light," said Luna dreamily. "The light of life itself."

Everyone fell silent. "Luna," said Remus, "I'm sorry I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you in several years, but I assure you, you are one of the most perceptive people I have ever seen. Yes, Harry, live your life. Remember that Voldemort's greatest weapon is fear--and don't cow to it."

Harry looked at his friends, at his strength, and the truth of Remus' words sank in.

Remus lifted the charm, and Mrs. Weasley set down a plate of food in front of each of the students. "Eat up, dears, before you leave. I'll see you in a few days, I suppose."

"Is Neville coming here?" asked Harry.

"No," said Remus, digging into his sausage. "We're going to his grandmother's manor with a portkey, collecting him, and then going on to Wales."

Harry ate quickly, and soon everyone had collected their trunks and were standing around a Butterbeer bottle that was the portkey to Longbottom Manor.

"Thank Merlin you're here!" shouted Neville as they dropped unceremoniously into the entrence hall of the massive Tudor manor house. "Gran's been unbearable waiting for you."

"Ah, Mrs. Longbottom," said Remus, standing and brushing his robes straight. "Is everything ready for us to be off?"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Lupin," said Neville's grandmother, "but would you--" She broke off as a large explosion was heard from the front lawn.

"What the devil?" said Ron.

Lupin stuck his head outside the door, and ducked back just as a curse blew the massive timber door off its hinges. "Death Eaters! Get out of here!"

Mrs. Longbottom pointed toward a door in the side of the room. "Come on," shouted Neville. "I'll show you!" As they reached the door and opened it to reveal a flight of stone stairs, he turned back to his grandmother. "Gran, get out!" The students fled down the stairs and slammed the door behind them.

Hermione spun and locked the door as they feld down the stone-walled corridor at the foot of the stairs. Neville led them down the corridor, up another flight of stairs, and they emerged in a greenhouse. "Behind here," he hissed, and they ducked behind a table full of Mandrake Roots to hide. A few moments later, Remus appeared.

"Good," he whispered. "You're all here. They didn't put up anti apparition wards, since they knew you can't apparate. They just destroyed the portkey, and, unfortunately, I can't create a new one."

"So we're trapped," said Hermione.

"It would seem that way," said Remus. "I brought your trunks, shrunk and feather-light. Here." He pulled six miniature Hogwarts trunks out of his pocket and set them on the floor.

"We're not trapped," said Harry. "Enlarge the trunks again. Luna, do you have a broom?"

"I have a Nimbus," she said. "I was planning on trying for the Ravenclaw team this term."

"Brilliant," said Ron. "I see." He grabbed his Cleansweep out of his trunk and let it hover in front of him.

"Sorry, Gin, but your broom is just too slow. Climb on behind me. Neville, tell Remus somewhere to apparate to that's nearby--but not too near--then get on behind Luna." Hermione already had a hand on Ron's broom.

"Dunharrow," said Neville abruptly. "It's a big hill, with a rather spotty stand of rowan on top. There's a quarry cut out of the south face of it, an old one full of water."

"I think I can manage," said Remus. "How far is it from here?"

"About ten miles. It's just past that wood." He pointed out the window of the greenhouse to a thickly forested dale that scooped down from the small rise on which the manor house sat.

"Okay," said Harry. "Remus, get the trunks. Follow me, and quickly!" He blasted a hole in the roof of the greenhouse, and shot off vertically through the gap.

It didn't take long for the Death Eaters to see the six students escaping the greenhouse on brooms. Harry pressed himself flat to the handle of his Firebolt and headed straight for the trees. At least one of the Death Eaters had a broom, Harry realized as he noticed someone take off from the front lawn and head straight for them.

"One behind us!" shouted Ron, who was trailing the line of brooms. A curse whipped past Harry's ear, and he dove lower. The frontmost pines of the forest were getting closer as he zipped towards the margin of the woods. Luna was at his heels, but so was one of the Death Eaters.

"Get him," he shouted backwards, and Ginny fired off a hex. There was a screech and a thud as the spell connected with its target, and one of the masked riders dropped off his broom.

Harry ws entering the wood now, the lowest branches of the pines shaking as he shot past them. He was in full flying mode now, paying no heed to the jets of light that occasionally flashed over his shoulder, nor the answering shots that Ginny, Neville, and Hermione sent towards the rider.

Whoever he was, he was very good. Harry didn't think anyone could keep up with him, but this guy was sticking right with the line of students. "TURN LEFT, HARRY!" came Neville's voice through the whipping wind. Harry threw up a hand in acknowledgement, and banked hard right.

Everyone followed him, including the Death Eater. He circled a tree and took off in the direction Neville had indicated. Up, down, sideways--Harry dodged and weaved among the thickening pines and junipers of the wood. One moment he was skimming the blanket of needles on the ground, the next he was looping over a branch thirty feet in the air. It was all his friends could do to stay with him. Occasionally a stray branch nicked his face, but he ignored the sting and kept flying. The man in the dark robes refused to give up, though, matching Harry maneuver for maneuver.

Suddenly, with a flash of light, Harry burst from the trees, and nearly into a dark, rocky mass jutting straight up from the gently rolling countryside--Dunharrow Hill.

Harry had been imagining something along the lines of Stoatshead Hill near The Burrow--a gently sloping, grassy protuberance. Dunharrow was far from gentle or grassy. It was a steep, sharp outcropping, marked with boulders and rocky patches from the foot up to the summit, where there was a stand of very old trees. On one side was a huge gash--the quarry Neville had mentioned--filled with a dark, brackish water. It was for this that Harry aimed.

He signalled Luna and Ron to break off, and they did, swooping down to a little shoulder on the eastern side of the hill. Harry, meanwhile, dove into the quarry itself, skimming the water, then shooting upward in a spiral that no ordinary rider could have mimicked. But his pursuer stayed right with him, firing a couple hexes that missed before settling in to pursuit again.

They swooped around the shoulder where the others had landed, giving Hermione a clear shot at the Death Eater. She missed. Harry tried to lose him in the thicket at the summit, to no avail. "Who the bloody hell is that?" he hissed backwards as he accelerated again towards the quarry lake in a battlefield Wronski Feint.

Ginny leaned up and whispered a name in his ear. "No...it couldn't be...but still..." He dove at the water at full speed as though he were chasing an invisible snitch that was sitting on the still, black surface of the pond. At the last second, he pulled up, and his opponent matched him exactly. "Damn it all!"

A curse came at him a little high. "Sloth grip!" he shouted and rolled over on his broom. "Knock him off his goddamned broom, Ginny!" He righted them, and stopped nearly instantly. Before the pursuer could react, he was past them.

"STUPEFY!" they shouted at once, and the red light caught him in the back. In one instant, the man was falling from his broom, unconscious. A second later, the mask came off his face, revealing a familiar hooked nose and thick, dark hair and eyebrows. Hermione screamed, and Ron took off from the shoulder. Harry dove towards his plummeting adversary, but too slowly. With an extra effort, Ron reached out and caught the falling body of Viktor Krum seconds before he hit the water.