Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: The Amulet of Anteros

It was mid-morning before Dumbledore sent for Harry. While he waited, Harry told anyone who asked that he was fine, but he had to admit to himself that it might not be entirely true, wearily walking even the short distance from the hospital wing to Dumbledore's office.

Mumbling the password (Wangdoodle) to the impassive gargoyle, Harry mounted the stairs with a growing sense of dread. He had come to loathe these little chats that he and Dumbledore always had to have when something terrible had happened.

Frankly, he was wondering when the Aurors would be arriving to take him away. He had killed someone, and admitted as much -- surely there would be massive repercussions from the Ministry. They had been on him faster than a Seeker on a Snitch when a House Elf blew up a pudding in his Aunt and Uncle's house, but seemed rather slower on the draw now he'd actually committed murder...

Harry shook his head trying to dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts, but it wasn't easy. He'd been awake most of the night fending off the unpleasant realization that he might very well be sent to Azkaban for what he had done. So far, only one single thought had found its way to comfort him.

Sirius had survived Azkaban.

Then again, Sirius had known he was innocent.

Harry raised his fist to knock on Dumbledore's door, but the Headmaster called, "Enter," before his knuckles even struck the wood. With a sigh, Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk as ever, looking patient and old and just a little bit sad. The headmaster gestured for Harry to take a seat, which he did, avoiding his professor's gaze at all costs. Harry was desperately ashamed of what he had done; he felt as though he had let Dumbledore down, had violated some unspoken pact between them.

"First things first, I think," Dumbledore said with an almost cheerful voice. "May I see your amulet, Harry?"

Harry looked up in surprise. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. Confused, Harry drew the chain out from within his robes and pulled it off over his head. He felt the weight of the gold disk in his palm for a moment before passing it to Dumbledore.

The Professor examined the amulet for a moment, adjusting his glasses on his long nose. "Ah," he said, barely louder than a sigh. "As I suspected."

"Do you know what it is, sir?" Harry asked, his trepidation quickly being shoved aside by curiosity.

"Indeed I do, Harry. This is the Amulet of Anteros. It has been lost for many, many years." Dumbledore turned the amulet over in his hands so that the side with the moving circles was facing upward. He glanced up at Harry. "You solved its puzzle, I see."

Harry shrugged. "Hermione translated the riddle, and Gwyn came up with the answer..."

Harry -- I figured it out...

"What is sweeter than honey? What fiercer than lions? What binds us together both pauper and scion...?" Dumbledore recited, passing the amulet back to Harry.

It's love...

"Professor Lindell said it was a speliquary," Harry said slowly as he accepted the amulet. "An artifact for storing spells."

"And so it is, but not just any spells, Harry. The Amulet of Anteros was designed to house a very particular, very powerful spell: the Redamo Charm."

"It doesn't work," Harry said bluntly, slipping the chain back over his head and tucking the gold disk reassuringly back into the collar of his shirt. "I mean, it's all used up."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him.

"We solved the riddle, and we moved the pieces into place," Harry explained, "but nothing happened."

"Ah," Professor Dumbledore said, folding his hands on top of his desk. "But solving the puzzle alone does not activate the spell. There is a second ingredient required." Harry must have looked skeptical, because Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps I should first explain what the Redamo Charm does.

"The spell itself is a very powerful charm not unlike the Fidelius Charm. The Fidelius Charm links two people together by way of absolute trust. The person casting the spell must feel total trust and confidence in his secret keeper in order for the spell to work. The Redamo Charm works in very much the same way, but it is not trust that the caster must feel--"

"It's love," Harry said. With an almost audible click the pieces fell into place in his brain. "Hermione knew," he breathed, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "She figured it out. That's why she..."

I love you, Harry!

He had to tell Ron.

"I imagine that Miss Granger discovered the true nature of the amulet and wanted to compel you to feel the proper emotion to activate the spell."

"Love," Harry said flatly.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a sad sort of smile. "But not just any love, Harry. Just as the Fidelius Charm requires the caster to feel absolute trust, so the caster of the Redamo Charm must feel absolute love. It is one thing simply to tell someone that you love them." Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "It is another thing entirely to love someone enough that you would do anything in your power to protect them, fight with them..." He looked Harry directly in the eye. "Die for them."

Harry's heart was hammering inexplicably in his chest. "Sir," he said, "I noticed that some people, some of the people who were there -- Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny -- they all have..." He paused, uncertain even now if he could be sure of what he thought he'd seen. "They all have amulets just exactly like mine."

"That," Dumbledore replied, "is the function of the Amulet of Anteros. You see, Harry, it not only stores the Charm until it is activated. The Amulet also reproduces itself -- one for every person you truly love and care for -- and then amplifies the spell to them. 'A bond that's eternal when freely bestowed, a harvest more plentifully reaped than when sowed.'"

"But what does the spell actually do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "It does the same thing that all love does, Harry. It makes you stronger."

"That's why--" Harry blurted, his eyes widening in comprehension. "My spells -- they all seemed more powerful. I thought it was because I was using Hermione's wand, but--" His words were tumbling over themselves as they spilled out from his lips.

Dumbledore was nodding his approval as Harry put the final pieces together. "The Redamo Charm links the people the caster loves and shares their power between them," the professor said. "The Amulet amplifies those powers even more."

"So because I care so much about Hermione and Ron and all the rest, I had all their power behind my spells?" Harry concluded.

"As they had yours," Dumbledore agreed. "Which is, I think, why so many came away from the battle with only minor injuries. And it is also, I believe, why you did not know your own strength when you cast the Disarming Charm on Phillipe Fontaine."

"I swear, Professor," Harry said, the sick feeling of guilt suddenly crashing back into him like lead weights in his belly, "I didn't mean to hurt him. I only wanted to stop him--"

"No one thinks that you acted in anything other than self-defense, Harry," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "Least of all me."

Harry stared at him. "No one? Then I'm not -- I mean..."

"Perhaps I should clarify," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand. "No one who knows what happened believes that you did anything wrong. I have not, however, seen fit to provide the Ministry with the full details. All they know is that Phillipe fell from the window in the Shack during the course of the battle." He looked at Harry shrewdly. "I think you might agree with me that, regardless of the true circumstances, certain individuals in the Ministry might use this against you."

Harry nodded slowly. "But sir, I killed--"

"Did you intend to murder Phillipe Fontaine?" Dumbledore asked him abruptly. His voice was sharp, his expression deadly serious. Harry could suddenly feel the tendrils of Dumbledore's thoughts reaching into his mind. Fighting down the initial urge to block his thoughts, which had become second nature since his lessons with Professor Lindell, Harry removed all his mental barriers.

"No, sir."

Dumbledore's expression relaxed and Harry could feel the professor's mind retreating. "Then you have nothing to fear, Harry."

* * *

Professor Dumbledore talked for a long time about many different things, and when Harry finally left the headmaster's office, he felt drained emotionally and physically. His steps back to the hospital wing were slow but steady, indicative of his determination to remain upright, to keep moving.

In the infirmary very little had changed. Those members of the DA with the least serious injuries -- Ginny, Ernie, Gwyn, and Padma among them -- had been sent back to their dormitories. Luna was sitting propped up in her hospital bed reading aloud to Neville from the latest edition of The Quibbler. She smiled and waved at Harry as he passed. Neville never broke his wide-eyed, unfocused staring into space.

Ron was exactly where Harry had left him. A haze of red fuzz had sprung up over his chin, and his eyes were heavy from lack of sleep. He glanced up when Harry moved to sit across from him.

"Still no change," he said flatly to Harry's unspoken question. "They're going to transport her to St. Mungo's in a few hours." He sighed. "Something about a having to hook up a special direct Floo connection since they can't Apparate her. Her parents are going to meet us there."

"Us?" Harry repeated, staring down into Hermione's pale, blank face.

"Well, yeah," Ron said. "I mean, I'm going with her and nobody's going to stop me." He frowned at Harry. "I just assumed that you would want to go too, especially since you and she--"

"Hermione is not in love with me, Ron," Harry said firmly.

"Then why did she--"

"She told me she loved me, not that she was in love with me. There's a big difference." Harry reached out and grabbed the chain around Hermione's neck, pulling the amulet out for Ron to see. "And she told me that she loved me because she found out what this does." He reached across the bed, grabbing Ron's collar and pulling his amulet out as well. "And this."

"I was wondering where I'd got that," Ron said a bit sheepishly.

"You got that because Hermione figured out that love would trigger the spell," Harry said, laying Hermione's amulet gently back against her blanket-covered chest. "She knew that I loved her, even if I didn't know, and so she said the one thing that would get me to realize it and activate the spell." He looked up into Ron's astonished face, hoping to see understanding. "That spell saved our lives," he said quietly. "She saved our lives."

"Because you love her," Ron said flatly.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Just like I love you, and Ginny, and Neville, and Remus, and Tonks... Just like I love everybody who got one of those amulets. But I'm not... You know--"

"I am," Ron said abruptly. He sighed and looked down at Hermione. "Silly bint. Always have to know the right answer, don't you?" He reached out and took her hand in his again. "Couldn't you have saved us before you got cursed, though?"

For a while, Harry and Ron sat together, keeping vigil over their fallen friend. They didn't speak, and Harry felt they didn't need to. Some things were better left unsaid.

A team of healers in green uniforms arrived a few hours later and shooed Ron and Harry away from Hermione's bed as they prepared her for transfer. The boys stood awkwardly off to the side watching the strangers do things to their Hermione.

"I'm not going to come with you," Harry said quietly as they watched the healers performing protective charms. "I've got things to do here."

Ron nodded.

"I'll come as soon as I can," Harry assured him. "Dumbledore says I have to go back to Surrey -- at least for the next month, but I--"

"I know," Ron said suddenly. He looked up and looked Harry in the eye. "I mean, I understand." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You come when you can."

Harry watched as the healers bundled Hermione up, enlarged the fireplace at the end of the infirmary, and levitated her directly through to the ward at St. Mungo's. Ron didn't ask anyone's permission, he just followed straight on their heels, pausing only for a moment to turn and look back at Harry. Harry smiled weakly, and Ron smiled back before disappearing in a rush of green flame.

* * *

Harry wandered the corridors of the castle feeling hollow and empty, save for the unpleasant buzzing of all the knowledge Dumbledore had imparted. With Ron and Hermione gone, was at a loose end. He'd tried to sleep, but closing his eyes made the noise in his head that much louder. Instead, he'd decided to find Remus.

After carefully counting his turns and having to be quite firm with two of the more mischievous moving staircases, Harry found himself in a part of the castle he had never visited. Mentally running over Professor McGonagall's instructions one more time, however, he felt certain that he must be in the visitors' wing. All he had to do was locate Remus' rooms.

Harry took a deep breath and started down the hallway. It was narrower than most of the corridors in the castle and richly decorated. The walls were hung with enormous tapestries, broken here and there by paintings whose inhabitants coughed or yawned when they saw him and politely bade him a good morning. The floor was covered in a richly embroidered carpet which muffled the sound of his footsteps.

Harry's first plan had been to knock on every door he came to until he found the rooms where Remus was staying, but that proved unnecessary. Only a little way down the hall, Harry began to hear voices. One was certainly Remus', the other, a female voice he couldn't quite place.

"...even nicer than the professors' rooms," she was saying as Harry approached, "and it isn't as though they're in high demand. You should stay on for a while. The research is coming along well, but I could use your help--"

"I fear I have trespassed on Dumbledore's hospitality for quite long enough," Remus interrupted.

"Pride goeth before a fall, Remus Lupin," the woman replied sternly, and something about her tone made Harry recognize her at once. Reaching the room, Harry knocked a little hesitantly on the frame of the open door and poked his head in.

"Hello Remus. Professor."

Professor Lindell looked around sharply at him, then smiled a little wryly.

"Still lurking in doorways, Mr. Potter?" she asked. "It's no wonder you're a natural Legilimens; you have a proclivity for knowing things you ought not."

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Alright," Harry shrugged. "I just wanted to--" he glanced briefly at Professor Lindell "--to ask you something."

Lindell rose from her seat gracefully. "Then I shall leave you to it." She approached the open door, but turned back to look at Remus before she left. "I am making progress, but I don't know that I can complete the spells without your assistance. Please consider what I've said."

Remus inclined his head. "Thank you, Demetria. I will." He and Harry watched her go and were silent for a short moment.

"Harry," Remus said, smiling as he pushed a drawer in the bureau shut with his hip. "Come in. How are you feeling?" He gestured to the chair just vacated by Professor Lindell, offering it to Harry.

"I'm alright," Harry said, sinking down into the proffered chair. "They took Hermione to St. Mungos." Remus nodded as he folded the pajama shirt in his hands. "You're leaving?" Harry asked.

Remus gave him an odd look. "Not much reason for me to stay."

Harry looked down at his hands in his lap and started worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers.

Remus cleared his throat as he shut his case with a snap. "So. You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Yeah," Harry said, glad for the distraction. He reached up and grabbed the chain around his neck and pulled the amulet out of the collar of his shirt. He held it out, and Remus reluctantly extended his hand. Harry carefully let the amulet drop into Remus' outstretched palm.

"It's called the Amulet of Anteros," Harry said.

Remus quirked an eyebrow at him incredulously. "Who told you that?"

"Dumbledore," Harry said with authority, "and he said I should ask you when my dad gave you the amulets."

Remus sunk down onto the bed heavily, studying the amulet in his palm. "Let me think," he said quietly. "It would've had to have been... Yes, it was sometime in our fifth year, I think."

"But," Harry pressed, leaning forward in his chair, "was it before or after they figured out the animagus transformations?" Remus frowned at him but Harry pressed on. "Try to remember. It's important."

Remus sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across the bridge of his nose. "Before," he said at last, "just before. They'd figured out the transformation by the very next moon."

Harry sat back in his chair feeling stunned. Remus opened his eyes, still frowning slightly at Harry, when suddenly his features softened. He opened his mouth but no sound emerged. Slowly he lowered his gaze from Harry's face to the amulet in his hand.

"Merlin's balls," Remus huffed.

"You know what the amulet is, then?" Harry asked. "You know what it does?"

"I know the legend," Remus replied haltingly. "But Dumbledore can't honestly believe--"

"He thinks it saved our lives," Harry interrupted, "in the shack, I mean. He thinks--" He felt a little uncomfortable saying what else Dumbledore had told him, but he stumbled ahead, not meeting Remus' eyes. "He told me he thinks it may have saved your life as well."

"They were having trouble," Remus said. His voice was distant, detached, and when Harry glanced up at him, Remus was staring at his hands, turning the amulet over and over between his fingers. "They had been trying to master the transformation for months when--" he paused. "Good Godric, I remember now. I'd had a bad moon. A very bad moon."

He looked up at Harry, his expression solemn, pale eyes wide. "And when I finally woke up, I had this." He reached into his own collar and pulled out the thin metal chain. Harry had noticed over Christmas that Remus had taken to wearing his own amulet again almost all the time.

"Harry," Remus said gravely, "if this truly is the Amulet of Anteros..."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told me that he thinks that their strength got you through your bad moon and that your -- erm... inherent ability to transform was passed to the others through the amulets. That's how they were able to complete the transformation process at so young an age, because they..." He met Remus' eyes briefly. "They needed you the same way you needed them."

For a while they both just stared at the amulets. Then, with a quiet reverence, Remus passed James' amulet back to Harry. Harry ducked his head and carefully placed the chain around his neck, feeling the comforting weight once more against his chest.

Alone, they could not triumph, Dumbledore had told him, but together they could not fail.

* * *

The last few days of school seemed to drag on forever. Harry received daily owls from Ron to update him on Hermione's condition, but they all said the same thing: no change. The Healers were telling them that it might take weeks to unravel the curse that was afflicting her, and that it might take much longer before they would know how she might be permanently affected by it.

So, while everyone else was out in the school grounds celebrating the end of exams and enjoying the sunshine, Harry remained cloistered in Gryffindor Tower, uncomfortable around so many cheerful faces and unable to dislodge the suffocating weight of his guilt. It took Ginny almost a full hour to persuade him to take a walk with her, and she only managed it in the end through a combination of threats and physical force.

"It'll do you good," she said, sounding pleased with herself as she gave him one last shove out the main doors and down the steps. "We've had nothing but sunshine for weeks and you're still paler than a ghost at mid-winter!"

Harry shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, but consenting at last to walking without being helped by Ginny's shoves. They walked along in silence for a while. Ginny seemed content not to speak now that she had accomplished her goal of getting him out of the castle.

It really was a gorgeous day, Harry had to admit. It was warm, but not hot, and sunlight hit the lake, shattering into shards of light that glittered like diamonds. As he and Ginny walked across the grounds, students of all ages, from all four houses, sat or ran or played around them.

Harry turned toward Ginny, meaning to thank her for forcing him out, but a glint of gold caught his eye and stayed his tongue.

"You're still wearing it," he said quickly, averting his eyes to his feet. "The amulet I mean."

"Oh. Yeah," Ginny replied, raising a hand to finger the chain around her neck. "Yeah, we all are."

Harry glanced up at her sharply. "Why?"

"Just in case," Ginny said with a shrug. "Just in case one of us needs help again."

Harry frowned, trying to recall everything Dumbledore had told him about the amulets. "I don't think the magic works that way," he said.

Ginny gave him a funny look. "I wasn't talking about the spell," she said simply, and she reached out and gave his hand a little squeeze.

They walked on together for a while longer until they reached the enormous old tree that marked his and Ron and Hermione's favorite spot. Harry put one hand against the rough bark of the gnarled trunk and leaned heavily into it. The worries, the prophecies, the expectations of the world weighed on him, and Harry wondered how he could possibly be expected to triumph against them all when he couldn't even protect his friends from harm.

And then he thought of Ginny and of all the others still willing to wear their amulets, still willing to stand with him despite everything he had put them through. It was hard for the little boy in him who still expected to be shut up in a cupboard every night to comprehend the love and the trust those amulets represented. It was an almost impossible thing to wrap his brain around.

Yet that impossible thought sparked the tiniest glimmer of hope at the back of his brain, unwilling to be snuffed out by his fears. It was like a breath of fresh air , winding into a smoky room. It was like catching the distant echo of beautiful music on the breeze.

Harry's head snapped up. The music wasn't in his head. He turned to ask Ginny if she heard it too, but she was staring at him, hands on her hips, giving him a look of utter contempt.

"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day or are you going to go talk to her?"

Harry sighed deeply. "I think Gwyn... I mean, I think we..."

Ginny nodded slowly, her expression softening. "All the more reason to go talk to her," she said wisely. She closed the few steps between them, resting a hand gently on Harry's arm. "It won't be nearly as bad as you think."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

Ginny smiled. "Call it woman's intuition. Now go on," she said, giving him a gentle shove, "and stop being such a bloody coward."

With some trepidation, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way across the grass toward the sound of the music. He saw her before she saw him; she was sitting on a large protuberant root beneath an ancient shade tree, eyes closed, playing her violin. The melody was sweet and sad, and Harry stopped some way off to watch her swaying ever so slightly to the tune, the gentle summer breeze playing with strands of her long blonde hair.

He still thought she was beautiful, and his stomach still gave a little lurch when he saw the curve of her neck, the waves of her hair, the dark half-moons of lashes against her cheeks, but it wasn't the same. He still thought she was beautiful, but he thought it now in a sort of detached way, the way one admires a painting or a rose.

As Harry watched her, a slow creeping sense of relief and calm passed over him. A decision he'd been chewing over while he sulked in his tower now seemed crystal clear, as though it had been made for him.

Even from this distance, he could tell that there was no gold chain hanging about Gwyn's neck.

When her song was over, Gwyn opened her eyes and spotted him almost immediately. She smiled and beckoned him forward as she laid her instrument and bow in their case.

"I was just thinking about you," she said as he approached.

"Is that why the song was so sad?" Harry asked.

Gwyn ducked her head slightly and did not reply right away. "My father sent me an owl," she said at last. She smiled up at him a little hesitantly. "I guess it took you and me being kidnapped and nearly killed, but he finally believes you. His report is going to recommend that our government support your Ministry however we can to defeat the Death Eaters."

"Oh," Harry said, uncertain of how to respond. Privately, he couldn't help but think that any help Gwyn's father could provide would be too little, too late. "That's great, I guess."

"Unfortunately," Gwyn said, fiddling with the latch on her violin case, "he wants to get back to the States as soon as possible. We're leaving as soon as term is over."

Harry stared at his hands. He didn't really want to say the words he was thinking, but nothing else seemed right. "Well," he said at last, "maybe that's for the best."

Gwyn looked up at him and, with an enormous effort, he met her eyes honestly for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Maybe it is," she said quietly.

* * *

When the Hogworts Express rumbled into Hogsmeade station, there was the usual mad rush of students pressing forward, the usual cacophony of a thousand voices mixed with the thunder of a steam train, and the usual sinking feeling deep in Harry's stomach. Another year was over. Most students were glad to go home to visit their families, no matter how much they liked Hogworts most of the time.

Harry never was.

Waving his goodbyes to Hagrid, Harry swung onto the train and ducked into the first empty compartment he could find. It was strange to be alone, without Ron or Hermione, but he found he rather liked the solitude if he couldn't be with them.

With a whistle and a grunt, the scarlet engine lurched into life. Harry leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and wondered if he could sleep the entire summer away.

His peace, however, was short-lived. With a clatter, he heard the compartment door being wrestled open, and his eyes snapped open at the sound.

"He's in here!" Padma yelled, hanging half-in and half out of the compartment. Pushing the door all the way open, she bustled in and plopped down heavily into the seat next to Harry. Harry frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but before a single sound escaped his lips, Justin, Ernie, and Hannah had pushed their way in.

"Alright, old bean?" Ernie asked, clapping Harry soundly on the shoulder before taking the seat across from him.

"Wha--" Harry began, but he was cut off as Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Andrew, and Jack pushed their way into the compartment. There was a great deal of pushing and squabbling as the five of them fought over the four remaining seats, and just when Harry thought it was over, the door opened again.

"Is there room for a few more?" Luna asked, peering into the little room. There was a general noise of assent and she picked her way carefully into the crowded room with Neville close at her heels.

The noise and general chatter in Harry's compartment drowned out even the rhythmic sound of the wheels clacking on the tracks. Harry gave up trying to make himself heard and simply sat back, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Alright, quiet. Quiet!" Ginny yelled finally, holding up her hands. "We all know why we're here..."

"Er, I don't," Harry pointed out a mite testily.

"We're here to hear the plan," Justin said with his easy smile. "Ginny said something about meeting up at some grim, old--"

"Grimmauld," Ginny corrected.

"I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to get away," Ernie interjected. "Mumsey and Dad always do like to make such a fuss over me when--"

"And what about Apparating lessons?" Seamus asked. "Will we be able to take them from your house, Harry? Because that's a bloody useful skill, Apparating is."

"My house?" Harry spluttered, trying -- and failing -- to imagine this lot descending on number four Privet Drive.

"Hey, quiet!" a voice rose over the din. "QUIET!" Slowly, Neville stood up from where he had been crouching near the door. He looked around at all the faces suddenly turned toward him and he didn't even blush. "Harry doesn't even know what's going on."

"Because he's been locked up in his room for weeks on end," Padma grunted. Everyone laughed their agreement, but Neville held up his hands once more for silence.

"Harry," he said without quite meeting Harry's eyes, "Ginny told us about the amulets." Around him, heads all bobbed in agreement and several people's hands flew to their throats where identical gold chains rested.

"There's a lot of power in these little things," Padma said solemnly.

Neville nodded. "Enough to defeat a hoard of V-" He took a deep breath, "Voldemort's best Death Eaters." He looked up and at last met Harry's eyes. "Maybe even enough to help you defeat Voldemort himself."

Harry stared back at him, barely recognizing the confident young man standing before him. "I have to fight Voldemort myself," he protested.

"We know that," Ginny said waving a hand dismissively at him, "but it's like Fred and George said: Voldemort is hardly likely to come after you by himself, one-on-one in a fair fight."

"He has a whole bleeding army!" Andrew exclaimed.

"And now," Luna said with a serene smile, "so do you."

"Dumbledore's Army!" Jack cried enthusiastically.

"Harry's Army," Ginny corrected, shooting a shy grin at Harry's bewildered look and then blushing up to the tips of her ears.

"Before," Neville said urgently, "we wouldn't have had a chance against the Death Eaters, even with all the stuff you were teaching us. But with these..." He reached up and yanked the amulet out from the collar of his shirt. He held it out and the little red stone in the center glinted in the sunlight. "With these and a good strategy--"

"--and some more training," Dean said.

"--and a hell of a lot of luck!" Andrew laughed.

"--we'll have a fighting chance," Neville finished. He stared at Harry, his eyes searching Harry's face. "Anyway," he said, tearing his eyes away and suddenly fidgeting as he dropped the amulet back inside the collar of his shirt, "that was our idea."

Harry was stupefied. Half of him couldn't believe that they could be so stupid. How could they possibly think that a group of underage witches and wizards could possibly defeat an army of the most evil wizards that had ever lived? How could they think that he would let them throw themselves into danger like that?

And yet, the other half of him could not help but see the truth in what they said. He had seen the formidable power they had weilded when the amulets linked them together. What else might they be able to achieve now that they knew what they were dealing with?

"Well?" Ginny asked quietly, laying a hand on his knee. "What do you say, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Get comfortable," he said, resting his hand on top of Ginny's. "We've got a lot to talk about, and it's a long ride home."

THE END!