The Final Reckoning

Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Loss

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were in Dumbledore's office; he sat at his desk and McGonagall stood to one side, opposite Fawkes, who was looking like he might be coming close to his next burning day.

But if Fawkes looked old and tired, he was nothing compared to Dumbledore. Harry gazed at Dumbledore with a sick heart; the old wizard wasn't just frail and old looking. He looked ill, shrunken. He had lost weight, quite a lot of it, judging by the way his robes hung on him. His bright blue eyes had become glazed, his skin had become sallow, giving him a jaundiced look. His breathing was shallow and wheezing. Harry was so focused on Dumbledore he barely heard Ron recount his vision.

'...attacks on their parents,' Ron was saying. 'I don't know when it's supposed to happen.'

Why the hell are we here, disturbing Dumbledore's rest? He's sick, he should be in hospital, he shouldn't be listening to this stuff, McGonagall can take care of it...

'Thank you, Mr. Weasley,' said Dumbledore weakly, and Harry felt another pang at the former Headmaster's slow, laboured speech. 'Minerva, would you...be so kind as to tell Severus...'

'Of course,' she said briskly, but her eyes were pained, and as she swept out of the room, she cast one sad glance back at Dumbledore before leaving.

'Thank you, Ron, for...telling me about this,' said Dumbledore. 'I am sure...the necessary steps...will be taken to protect...the parents. We will of course...keep everyone informed...of what happens.'

Ron and Hermione nodded; Hermione was clutching Ron's hand so hard it looked like it hurt, but Ron didn't seem to notice.

'Sir, are you...are you all right?' Neville asked timidly.

Dumbledore smiled at Neville with tired, watery eyes.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'Just a bit of influenza.' He glanced at Ron, who was looking at his feet.

'We shouldn't have bothered you, sir,' he said.

'Don't be silly, Mr. Weasley...' said Dumbledore. 'It's not a bother. But perhaps...you should turn in...it is unlikely we'll hear anything tonight...but we will let you know first thing tomorrow...the parents will be...kept safe...'

Hermione bit her lip; her eyes were shiny with tears, and she and Ron and Neville started out of Dumbledore's office. Ginny started to go, tugging at Harry's hand. Harry swallowed and began to follow her.

'I wonder...' said Dumbledore, 'if I could have a word...with Harry.'

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks. Harry's heart was clenching so painfully he thought he might have a heart attack. Whatever Dumbledore had to say wasn't going to be pleasant. Harry had a feeling he knew what it might be. What had started out as a great evening had become one of the worst of his life. How was it that things could go from wonderful to horrible so quickly? Was it some kind of cruel joke?

'I'll wait up for you,' Ginny whispered, squeezing his hand. He felt her power radiate up his arm and into his heart, and the pain there eased a bit as she soothed him.

'Thanks,' he said, and he watched the retreat of her red hair as she left.

'You...care about her...a great deal,' Dumbledore said, his voice breaking the silence like shards of glass shattering.

Harry turned to Dumbledore.

'Yeah,' he said.

'I am...not surprised...' said Dumbledore. 'Miss Weasley is an exceptional...young woman...and you both have...a shared history.'

'It's not just that,' said Harry.

'I know, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I was young once, too. A very, very long time ago.'

Harry swallowed as Dumbledore shifted painfully in his chair. His hands were trembling slightly.

'Sir...you're not well,' said Harry slowly, pushing past the lump in his throat.

'No, I am not,' said Dumbledore. 'I am dying, Harry.'

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself not to lose control. He knew it was true, there was no disguising the slow decay of the former Headmaster, he had known Dumbledore was dying the moment he'd seen the old man hobble slowly, painfully into his office. But to hear the words...

'You can't be,' said Harry, his eyes opening.

'I am,' said Dumbledore softly, and despite his wavering tone, the wheezing of his breath, his voice was firm, unrelenting.

Harry approached Dumbledore's desk.

'You can go to St. Mungo's,' he said desperately. 'Surely they can...they can cure you. If it's just a bad case of influenza, surely there's something they can do. I'll take you there myself--'

'Harry,' said Dumbledore, and he lifted one thin, bony hand in a gesture meant to stop Harry's babbling.

Harry was breathing hard now, as the reality of everything was hitting him. He felt his knees turn to liquid and he sank into the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk.

'You can't...die, sir,' he begged, and he knew he sounded pathetic. 'You can't.'

'Unfortunately, I do not...have a choice in the matter,' said Dumbledore.

'Yes, you do,' said Harry angrily. 'You could put yourself in hospital, you could--'

'Harry...my time is over,' said Dumbledore. 'I am 154 years old. I have lived a full, long life. But it is time for me to let go. I am...tired. And...I am ready.'

'I'm not,' Harry bit out, and he stood up and began to pace as his anger overtook him. It was just like at the end of fifth year, when Sirius had died. Harry wanted to break things, he wanted to destroy the office, he wanted to shake Dumbledore, make him understand.

'What am I supposed to do? I can't...I still don't know how to beat him...you can't leave me now, I need your help--'

Harry's voice broke when he saw Dumbledore smile at him.

'You no longer need me, Harry,' he said. 'If I thought...you did, believe me, I would...fight. I would go...to hospital and...allow myself to be...hooked up to any contraptions, take any...medicines needed to prolong my life. But you do not need me anymore.'

'How can you say that?' Harry yelled.

'You're a man, now, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'And...you know what you have to do...to defeat him--'

'Bollocks, I do!' Harry barked. 'I don't know anything--'

'You have...all that you need to figure it out,' Dumbledore wheezed, 'is what...I meant to say. Your friends will help you. Professor...Hopkirk can...help you. But there is nothing more I can do...or tell you.'

Harry stared at him but his throat was closed again, he couldn't talk.

'I told you,' said Dumbledore, 'nobody lives forever. I...I have seen my end, and it is close.'

'No,' said Harry, shaking his head, as tears burned at his eyes. He fought them.

'I will still...be around...in a way,' Dumbledore went on, as if he hadn't heard Harry. 'I will still see you, Harry...just as your parents see you...just as Sirius sees you...they are all watching over you...even though you cannot...see them. That is how I will be.'

The tears came anyway, coursing silently down Harry's cheeks.

'Death is nothing to be feared, Harry,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'Death is...but the next...great adventure.'

Harry couldn't speak. He could hardly make a sound. He didn't bother to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes. There was a hole in his heart now. Dumbledore was leaving him. Just like everyone else.

'I must...retire,' said Dumbledore weakly. He got up slowly, and he looked to be in pain. 'You need your rest, too, Harry.'

Harry nodded dumbly and started out of the office; he didn't really notice he was walking, only that his feet were moving him. When he reached the office door he remembered something, something from Sirius's letter. He wiped his eyes beneath his glasses.

'Sir,' he asked, not turning around.

'Yes, Harry?'

'How long?' he asked. 'How long do you think...until...'

'I don't know,' said Dumbledore. 'A day, a week...a month at most...'

Harry pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.

'You'll let me know,' he said. 'When it's time.' He turned to look at Dumbledore and spoke thickly, through the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. 'You'll let me say goodbye?'

Dumbledore watched him for a moment, and a single tear trickled down his cheek and into his beard.

'Of course,' he said at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry didn't remember walking back to the common room. He didn't notice the Auror who walked several paces behind him. He didn't hear himself mutter the password to the fat lady, who was awake and tipsy again and talking in slurring tones to her friend Vi.

He didn't feel his feet as he clambered through the portrait hole, nor the warmth of the fire the was still crackling in the hearth. His eyes were unfocused and dry now, and his heart was like lead in his chest.

'Harry?'

The sound of her voice brought him back to himself. He looked up and saw her standing near the fire; the firelight was making her hair almost sparkle. She had changed out of her costume, and it was only then that Harry realized he was still in his, the clothing she'd transfigured. She wore a white cotton dressing gown and pale blue slippers, and her hair was loose. Her face was clean and scrubbed. She looked beautiful.

'Hi,' he croaked.

'Is your scar still hurting?' she asked.

'No, it was just...that little bit,' he said.

'Are you okay?' she asked, and she unconsciously picked up the tie to her robe and began to clutch at it.

'Not really,' he said, and he clenched his teeth at the sensation of tears behind his eyes again. He felt like a human hosepipe, and yet when Ginny gave him a sad, understanding look and dropped the tie of her robe and held out one hand to him, beckoning him over, his feet again took over and propelled him forward, and in a matter of two seconds he enveloped her in a crushing hug and buried his face in her hair, and he cried.

She whispered soft, soothing words to him that he didn't quite hear, and he felt her steer them both to the sofa and sit down, and still he clung to her, and then he felt her place a hand against his forehead, and she was using her power now, she wasn't holding back, she was taking the worst of his pain, the part that was ripping his heart and she was taking it inside herself.

'Ginny...' he whispered, and finally she pulled back, and her face was wet with her tears, and she still looked beautiful.

'You didn't have to,' he said, brushing tears away with this thumbs.

'I wanted to,' she whispered. For a long moment they sat, looking into one another's eyes, saying nothing, and there was no sound but the crackle of the fire. Harry remembered the night they had kissed, remembered the talk they'd had afterward, remembered all the times in the past few months she had told him to be happy, to date other girls, not to bog himself down with her, because she was complicated, and he shoved it all away. He didn't want other girls. He couldn't have fun with other girls. He couldn't be with other girls. He could only be with her, he wanted to bog himself down with her, he wanted her because she challenged him and made him laugh and took his pain away and made his blood race just from looking at her. He wanted her...he...

I'm falling in love with her.

Ginny took his hands in hers; she was looking into his eyes, reading the storm of emotions he felt, feeling it right back with him, but she was still afraid.

'He's dying, isn't he?' she asked.

Harry felt her pull away in asking that question, but he nodded.

'Yeah,' he said.

Ginny nodded, too, and a tear slipped down her cheek. 'He helped me, you know,' she said. 'Back in my second year. I was kind of a mess and...and he let me come to his office and talk to him. He just listened and...and he was the one that convinced me what Riddle made me do...wasn't my fault.'

'I didn't know that,' said Harry.

Ginny looked at him. 'I'll miss him, too.'

Harry felt another wave of anguish and pulled her close.

'I dunno what I'm going to do without him,' he admitted, whispering into her hair. 'He says I don't need him...he's wrong...I dunno what to do...'

'I know,' Ginny murmured, and she stroked his hair, and he felt another soft brush of warmth from her, from the power that she stretched over him like a blanket. They held each other for a while, and Ginny worked her powers over them, and Harry surrendered to it, knowing in that moment that he could never feel so close to anyone as he would to her.

Her breath was on his neck and she pulled back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, until she was looking into his eyes again, and they were beautiful and sparkling in the firelight, and she brushed her lips across his hesitantly.

Just that simple touch made his blood almost boil; she felt it, too, and for a moment she hesitated, but then she kissed him again, pressing her lips more firmly against his own, cupping his face in her small hands. She pulled away once more, her lips an inch from his, and he kissed her, and for a long time they kissed like this, soft, short kisses that became longer and longer. Kisses that tested her powers, kisses that made his body tighten and his blood race. And yet there was no sign of pain, in her or in his scar. There was only pleasure, and an ache, an ache that filled Harry's body with need. He had to kiss her deeper, he had to taste her...

Slowly, he parted his lips against hers, and he let out a soft groan when it was she who flicked her tongue against his, and they began to explore, with their lips, their tongues, their mingled breath. Harry's hands wanted desperately to touch her everywhere, to know what her skin felt like, but he placed them in her hair, and it was silk in his fingers, and her hands were on his face, and he felt her power coursing through his body, filling him and strengthening him and weakening him all at once, and there was still no pain, no interference, from this perfect moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

She whimpered softly when he sucked lightly on her lower lip, and the sound made him moan and then he was kissing her harder, and she was kissing him back, taking what he had and returning it with equal fervour. They kissed on and on and Harry was aching inside his body, he wanted more but he held back because he knew she was holding back, just a little, they were both praying they could just keep doing this...

'Harry...' Ginny gasped, breaking their kiss.

'Oh, god,' Harry panted. 'Did I hurt you?'

'No,' she said. 'I just...need to breathe.' She laughed, her laugh warmed him. 'I didn't hurt you, did I?'

'No,' he said, touching his scar, struggling to breathe himself. 'That was brilliant.'

She reached up and touched his face, and he closed his eyes, and he could feel her so completely inside his mind, his heart. He opened his eyes and stared into hers and took her hands in his.

'I can't just be your friend,' he blurted. 'I know you said we shouldn't...that I should see other people but...I don't want anyone else...I was so stupid to waste my time on anyone else...I want you...'

She bit her lip--she had no idea what she did to him when she did that, the way it drove him crazy--and looked worried.

'Are you sure?' she said. 'Harry...you and I...it won't be easy and it won't always be fun--'

'Lots of things in my life aren't easy or fun,' he said, smiling.

'Harry,' she said, shaking her head and smiling, but her eyes were serious.

'I don't care,' he said, and he was serious now. 'I don't...I'd rather be with you and have everything be complicated than not be with you.'

'It might take me long time to get my powers totally under control,' she said.

'So I'll wait for you to figure it out,' he said. 'We'll go slow, we'll...we'll get to know each other more and...spend more time together...if you want to...'

She smiled and her eyes shone with tears. 'I do want that,' she said. 'I do.'

'Good,' he said, relieved and thrilled and elated and dizzy all at the same time. He smiled at her and their foreheads touched, and her hands made patterns over his shoulders, his back.

'You're still in your costume,' she said, smiling.

'I forgot,' he said, running his fingers over her cheeks, her collarbone, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip. 'I have to kiss you again,' he murmured, and he did, and she returned it, and they kissed for a long time, their mouths hot and seeking, her hands moving on his back, his hands in her hair, and when she broke off to breathe again, he moved his lips to her jaw, to the juncture of her jaw and neck and sucked gently at the skin. She gave another little moan, and he kissed her throat, teasing the skin gently with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She even tasted of vanilla, sweet and heady.

His lips found the hollow at the base of her throat, and then moved back up to her mouth, and they kissed for another few minutes before Ginny pulled away.

She was panting when she said, 'We have to stop.'

He fought to regain his breath, to calm the raging in his crotch, and he nodded. 'You're right.'

'I just don't want to risk--'

'It's okay,' he said.

'It's not that I don't want to keep going--'

'Ginny, it's okay,' he said, putting a finger to her lips. 'It's okay. You're right, we shouldn't rush things.'

Oh, sure. You talk a good game, Potter, but you know there's nothing you'd like better than to peel off that dressing gown and whatever she's got on under it and...

Down, boy!

She smiled and embraced him, and for a long moment they held each other, letting the pounding of their hearts calm down, and he felt more emotions pouring out of her. Happiness, mostly. Even euphoria, tempered with the sadness of knowing about Dumbledore...

Don't think about Dumbledore.

Ginny clutched him tighter, as if she'd felt that twinge of sadness in him, too, and it passed, and they lost themselves in each other for a while, just holding onto each other in the dark of the room that was lit with a dying fire.

At last, Ginny spoke. Her voice was muffled from burying it in Harry's shoulder.

'You realize what this means,' she said.

'What's that?' he asked, shivering slightly at the feel of her breath on his skin.

'We have to tell Ron,' she said.

Harry felt his spine stiffen, and she pulled back and grinned at him.

Great. I get to tell my best mate I'm dating his sister.

'You're right,' he said, dreading how Ron would take it. On the one hand, he had basically set up Harry and Ginny's date. On the other hand...

'Maybe I should tell him,' said Ginny, at the same moment that Harry said, 'Maybe you should tell him.'

They both laughed, but then each became serious.

'I hope...Ron's vision...' Ginny began.

'Me, too,' said Harry.

'What about your scar?'

'It was just that flash of pain,' said Harry. 'Voldemort's angry. Maybe because Ron's visions have helped some of those foreign ministries prevent all those attacks. At least, that seems like a logical explanation. Don't you think?'

'That makes sense,' said Ginny, but she didn't sound completely convinced. Nonetheless he felt her resolve when she said, 'There's nothing we can do but wait and hear.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry climbed into bed feeling exhausted and emotional. He was thrilled beyond belief about the prospect of Ginny being his girlfriend, depressed about Dumbledore, worried about Voldemort, anxious about Hermione's parents...

He fell asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow, all the same. He was simply too tired to keep his eyes open. He dreamed of a lot of things as the night wore on.

He dreamed of Ginny, they were walking round the lake, holding hands. They stopped to kiss, and then they were in a room somewhere and she was lying on a bed, her blouse open, smiling up at him, and she kissed him, kissed so hard and thoroughly that he couldn't breathe, he needed to breathe, but she was possessing him, branding him with her mouth, and when he finally pulled away she was no longer Ginny but Griselda Hopkirk, smiling up at him with blood, his blood, on her lips, her eyes flashing red.

'You are mine...' she whispered, and she rolled him over onto his back and she was tearing away his clothes, and he struggled, but not really, she was beautiful and she was drugging him with her voice, her mouth, her teeth...oh god...

'Harry...'

Ginny was there, she touched his forehead and Hopkirk was gone, and he opened his eyes and he was suddenly in a house...

And then he was awake again. He was tall and powerful and gazed at the world through red eyes, and he was furious. He had not known such fury in months. It was like acid in his veins, this anger.

'This is the second time in as many weeks that my plans have been thwarted!' Harry screamed, in a shrill, high-pitched voice. 'What is the meaning of all this blundering? How are they learning of our plans?'

His eyes swept over the black-robed figures at his feet, all of whom were bent over, prostrating themselves.

'Does no one have an answer for me?' Harry demanded.

'My lord,' said a small voice, a female voice that was thin and frightened, 'I saw something.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'what is it?'

'I am not certain,' she said, never lifting her head to reveal her face, 'but I believe it might...be the answer to your question.'

'You speak in riddles, slave!' Harry hissed. 'I have no time for riddles. Speak plain or be silent!'

'I think,' said the girl, her voice shaking, 'I think they have--'

'Harry!' a voice yelled. A male voice. 'Harry, wake up!'

Harry sat up sharply in bed and grabbed at his scar, which was prickling hotly.

'What?' he asked.

'It's Ron.'

'Ron?' Harry repeated, and he sat up.

'What's up with you?' said Ron. 'Your scar's hurting again?'

'What time is it?'

'Nine in the morning,' said Ron. 'Everyone else is at breakfast, I didn't know where you were but Ginny mentioned you might be sleeping so I came up here.'

'Feels like I just went to sleep,' Harry grumbled.

'Listen, Harry, I got word from McGonagall,' said Ron, and he looked exhausted and relieved. 'They were able to...to get to everyone's parents and get them away. The Death Eaters were going to go after them this week but...the Aurors are on it, and they've moved Hermione's parents.'

Harry let out a breath. 'How's Hermione?'

'She's okay,' said Ron, nodding. 'Shit, we're both exhausted...didn't get any sleep, she was pacing all night...'

Harry winced and put a hand to his forehead as his scar tingled again.

'Harry, your scar--' Ron began.

And suddenly Harry's dream came rushing back to him. He skipped the part involving Hopkirk--which made him feel a bit sick--and went right to the part involving Voldemort.

'I dunno who he was talking to,' said Harry. 'Some girl, at least it sounded like a girl, her voice was really small. I didn't see her face. But he's furious. That's why I think I had the dream...he's been blocking me out completely but I think he got so angry he let his guard down. He knows something's up but he can't say what it is, and his Death Eaters...oh shit, Ron. You woke me up before I could find out.'

Ron grimaced. 'Sorry, mate.'

Harry waved a hand. 'Forget it.' He paused, and then he considered. 'Listen, I'll meet you down in the Great Hall in a bit. I just want to try something.'

'Legilimency,' said Ron.

'Worth a shot, isn't it?' said Harry. 'Although I'm a bit out of practice.'

'Do you want me to...to stick around?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Go eat. I need to be alone to do this. I'll be fine.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were in Ron's room struggling through the codes. Or at least, Harry and Ron were. Ginny--who'd volunteered to take on some of Harry's load (much to Ron's annoyance, since Hermione wasn't doing the same for him)--seemed to be having little trouble. Hermione, of course, worked at lightning speed. After a few hours at it, Ron gave a disgusted grunt and threw down his quill.

'I give up,' said. 'I can't do this another second, or I'll go mad.'

Harry looked up and rubbed his forehead.

'Is your scar hurting again?' Hermione asked anxiously.

'No, this is a headache,' said Harry ruefully, and he looked about to say something else but before he could, Ginny reached over and placed a hand on his arm. Harry's face relaxed.

'Thanks,' said Harry, grinning at her.

Ron looked from Harry to his sister and back again, and the old suspicions flared up again.

'What's with you two?' he blurted.

'What?' said Harry.

'What?' said Ginny.

'You two,' said Ron. 'You're...you're weird.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'So are you,' she said.

'I mean,' said Ron, 'you're...different. Around each other.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances and they both blushed, and Ron's eyes widened.

I knew it!

'I knew it!' he said. 'What's going on?'

'Ron, if we tell you, you have to promise to remain calm,' said Ginny evenly.

'I can't promise that unless I know what it is,' said Ron.

'Ron,' said Hermione, shaking her head, but she didn't stop writing on her parchment. It was amazing, really, how she could write and listen at the same time.

'See, Ron...' Harry began awkwardly, '...how it goes is...er...'

'Harry and I are dating now,' Ginny said bluntly, and to emphasize the point, she leaned over and kissed Harry squarely on the mouth.

Ron's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment.

Okay. You can handle this. You can. Just don't think about the...the specifics...oh yuck.

Be a man, Weasley. Your sister's seventeen next summer, Harry's your best mate, he's good people, it's not like you didn't see this coming...

'All right,' he said slowly. 'That's fine.'

Harry, Ginny and Hermione all gaped at him.

'That's it?' said Ginny. 'No, "if you mess with her, Harry, I'll beat you to a pulp"?'

'Harry's my best mate, I wouldn't do that,' said Ron, shrugging.

Harry snorted.

'Well, okay,' said Ron, 'yeah, I might hurt you a little if you mess with Ginny. But you won't, so...'

'Wow,' said Ginny. 'I'm impressed, Ron. You've come a long way since...well, since I was seeing Michael.'

This time Ron snorted. 'He wasn't good enough for you, and neither was Dean.'

Harry was trying not to smile, but not succeeding very well.

'Well, I'm very happy for you both,' said Hermione, and she hugged Harry and Ginny quickly. 'And I'm impressed, too, Ron that you're taking this so well.'

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry and Ginny. 'Just do me a favour and don't tell me anything about what you two...do.'

'Ron,' Hermione hissed.

Harry and Ginny blushed, but Harry cleared his throat.

'Thanks, mate,' he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

Ron shrugged. 'I figure...there's more important things than for me to be protective with my friends about,' he said finally.

For a long moment nobody said anything, and finally Hermione spoke, and her voice was small and sad.

'Harry,' she asked, 'can I ask...what Dumbledore wanted--'

Harry looked up sharply at her, and then let out a breath. 'He's sick,' Harry said. 'And he's not going to get better.'

Ron swallowed, grateful at least that Dumbledore had finally told Harry the truth about his condition. Hermione pursed her lips.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' was all she said.

Harry nodded, and his throat was working, but he turned to look at Ginny and she smiled at him and took his hand, and the tense look on his face relaxed a little.

They continued to work on the codes in silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'All told, not very enlightening,' said Hermione, after dinner. They were now in the common room, which was quiet and otherwise empty, and Hermione was going through the pieces of parchment one by one. She sighed in frustration.

'Just back and forth messages with vague references to progress on the tests,' she said irritably. 'Nothing that tells us anything. Maybe your mum had to get more secretive as time went on; maybe there was a risk of Hopkirk's cover being exposed.'

She looked at Harry.

'There's nothing in your parent's letters?' she asked.

'Nothing so far, although I'm now at the part where my mum is three months pregnant and puking all the time,' said Harry dryly.

'Isn't there anything we can use?' Ginny asked. 'Anything at all?'

'Not what's here,' said Hermione crossly. 'You know what this means.'

'What?' Ron asked.

Hermione leaned forward. 'We might have to talk directly to Hopkirk about this,' she said.

'Oh, well, that's a relief' said Harry. 'And I thought it would be something difficult.'

Ginny and Ron both chuckled, but Hermione sat back.

'Harry, it might be the only way,' she said. 'The information we have is drying up. I can spend some more time on Sanguen generare but it might just be better to go the source, find out what she and your mum were doing.'

'I know, Hermione,' said Harry, holding up his hands. 'But...I don't fancy talking to her, is all.' Ron saw him shudder.

'There's also the fact that your scar hurt,' said Hermione. She pulled out the six pieces of parchment that comprised The List. 'And the dream you had, but Ron woke you before you could figure out who that Death Eater was.'

'I said I was sorry,' said Ron defensively.

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'Look, for all I know, Voldemort planted that dream in my head. It wouldn't be the first time.'

'Then you don't think he's angry?' said Ginny.

'Oh, he's angry,' said Harry. 'Right after Ron had his vision, my scar hurt, and that was definitely an accident. It was just like all those times in the past when he's let his guard down for just a second. But the dream...that could have been something he planned to throw us off.'

'He must suspect something by now,' said Hermione. 'Three times his plans have been messed up. He has to have thought about the possibility of a Seer by now, or a spy in his organization that's working both sides.'

'He knows about Snape and Karkaroff, though,' said Ron, and the instant he said it he winced.

Oops, wasn't supposed to mention his name.

'Karkaroff?' said Hermione. 'He's involved?'

Dammit!

Ron groaned. 'I wasn't supposed to say anything, I completely forgot.'

'What?' said Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

Ron lowered his voice. 'Karkaroff is the bloke the Bulgarians were using as an informant. That's all. Don't say anything.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'that makes sense then. Voldemort being so angry. Karkaroff is the second person who's betrayed him, on top of Voldemort's plans getting so screwed up all over the place.'

'Where's Karkaroff now?' Hermione wondered.

'With Charlie,' said Ginny, in a low voice. 'Of course. That's why he went to Bulgaria, not for the dragons.'

'Ginny,' Ron hissed. 'Look, you can't say anything. When I told Dumbledore about that vision with what's her face Rosier, he made me swear not to say anything. I can't believe I let it slip. Good going, Weasley.'

'Ron, it's okay, nobody's going to say anything,' said Hermione quickly.

'Charlie's in this deeper than I thought,' said Ginny. 'I hope he's being careful.'

'Are you kidding?' said Ron. 'If mum knows about what he's doing, and she probably has some idea, you can bet he's being careful, because if he's not and he gets himself hurt, she'll kill him.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was two weeks into November and time for the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The weather had turned sharply colder just after Halloween, and there was now frost on the ground each morning. Harry had them practicing five nights a week now. Between the practices, Head Boy duties, homework, meditating, D.A. meetings and finding time to spend alone with Hermione, Ron was swamped, but somehow, he managed to fit everything in.

They agreed not to approach Hopkirk just yet with any questions, but that when they did, the four of them--Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny--would go together.

'Strength in numbers,' Ron said.

In the meantime, Hermione devoted a fair amount of her limited free time to researching more deeply on blood: blood diseases, blood cells, blood origins, everything. Ron had no idea how she was keeping everything in order, and he noticed that she had been a bit more tightly wound since the vision about her parents, a bit more fretful. She was writing to them almost every day now, and Ron had already resigned himself to spending a good portion of the Christmas holiday without her.

'I have to be with them this year, Ron,' she said. 'I just...need to.'

He hadn't protested; he knew she was right. But he would miss her all the same.

The Tuesday following the Halloween ball, The Daily Prophet reported that another set of Death Eater attacks on Muggles had been prevented. Ron's mixture of relief and consternation continued; he still rather disliked the idea of being a Seer, on the one hand, but on the other hand, he was grateful, at least, that his gift was accomplishing some good in the real world. That fact only made him work harder, and he found himself taking his sessions with Firenze more seriously. Firenze, for his part, praised his progress and pronounced him 'genuinely talented.'

Ginny continued her training sessions with Malfoy; she wasn't pleased by them, she reported, but Draco was leaving her alone.

Ron had to agree. Apart from the occasional glances in the Great Hall at mealtimes, Draco seemed to spend almost the entirety of his spare time with Pansy Parkinson. She fawned over him, and he let her do it.

Then there were Harry and Ginny, together. Ron tried not to pay too close attention, but he couldn't help but observe them. They were both a bit shy around each other, a bit hesitant; it would always take a minute or two for one of them to take the other's hand. The first time Ginny gave Harry a peck on the mouth in the Great Hall, both of them blushed like mad and the rest of the Gryffindors sniggered. It reminded Ron of how he and Hermione had been once, back in their beginning, and he realized he envied Harry and Ginny just a bit. There was something rare and exciting about the first stages of a relationship, the sense of discovery.

Yeah, well, don't think too hard about what they're discovering about each other or...yeah. Best not to think about that.

If Ron were honest with himself, though, he was glad that they were together. He'd never say this out loud, at least not with any enthusiasm--he didn't want Harry to be too relaxed about being Ginny's boyfriend--but Ron was glad of it nonetheless. They both seemed happier together than apart, and that was what mattered most. Ron squelched the minor, niggling concern in the back of his mind about what it meant for Ginny to be dating Harry, about the danger it might put her in and rationalized that she'd already been targeted by Voldemort twice, first through Riddle's diary and then at the Riddle House. Dating Harry wouldn't make a difference there.

And it won't. Voldemort wants to kill half the people in Britain.

Of course, the fact that Ron was secretly pleased that Harry was dating his sister didn't mean he liked it one bit when he came into the common room late one evening to fetch a book he'd left behind and found them in the midst of an enthusiastic snog on the sofa. They were so caught up in what they were doing that Ron had to clear his throat--three times--to make them aware of his presence (in the interim Ron held his hand over his eyes to shield himself from seeing his best mate and his sister do...what they were doing).

Harry and Ginny had peeled themselves apart quickly and both of them looked very embarrassed.

'Sorry,' they both mumbled.

Ron looked at both of them and rolled his eyes.

'If I never see that again,' he said, 'it'll be too soon.'

Harry and Ginny seemed to take his words to heart and Ron never caught them again.

Lessons were no better, nor worse, than before. Ron kept his head down and stayed entirely out of trouble, and he noted with not a little pride that he had yet to receive a single detention.

'I should hope not, you're Head Boy,' said Hermione.

By the time the Quidditch match came around on the second Saturday in November, Ron was feeling far less overwhelmed by his life than he had when he'd first started school. He'd established his routine and he had to admit Hermione was onto something when it came to organizing one's day. It might get a bit tedious and he might not want to bother with everything all the time, but at least there was a comforting predictability to it, and he was pleased to find that he needed Hermione's help less and less on homework and his day to day activities. The other major benefit of a schedule, of course, was that it allowed more free time at the end of the day, to be with his friends, to be alone with his girlfriend. Ron was somewhat surprised they hadn't yet been caught breaking the no sex rule, but perhaps the teachers decided there were more important matters to be attending to, with Voldemort out and about, than chasing after fornicating students.

Security was to be very tight for the match; security trolls were to be posted at random places below the stands, and Aurors in the stands. McGonagall told Ron, Hermione and the prefects that the wards had been doubled around the grounds and the castle, as well.

'It's because of Dumbledore,' Hermione whispered. 'He's...well, when a wizard is dying the wards he creates weaken, so...so McGonagall's putting up her own.'

Ron nodded, but he didn't want to think about Dumbledore, who had remained inside his office, out of sight, since the night Ron and the others had reported to him the content of Ron's vision.

The morning of the match was cold and bright, and Harry, Ron and the rest of the team ate an early breakfast, opting to head down to the pitch early for a last minute warm-up fly.

When they reached the pitch, however, the Slytherins were already up in the air. Malfoy was flying a bit removed from the rest of his team; Nott, Crabbe and Goyle gave him dirty looks but the team still flew as one. If there was any dissension in Slytherin House, it would not show up on the Quidditch pitch.

'Damn them,' Harry muttered. 'I booked the stupid pitch already.'

He was about to shout at the Slytherins to get out of the way when they all flew down and landed.

'Have at it, Potter,' said Malfoy.

'Thanks,' said Harry dryly, rolling his eyes when Draco turned round and stalked off to the Slytherin tent. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle gave Harry and Ron nasty looks. Blaise Zabini only regarded Harry and Ron coolly.

'Watch your back today, Potter,' Nott sneered, before he, too, went into the Slytherin tent, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

'Prats,' Ron muttered.

'Good luck, Potter, Weasley,' said Blaise. He gave them a curt nod and followed his team mates into the Slytherin tent.

'Let's go,' said Harry, and in a matter of moments, the Gryffindors were in the air. Ron flew over to the goal hoops and practiced some of his turns and rolls, leaving his hands free as though to catch a Quaffle. It felt good to be up there, even in the chill of the morning.

After fifteen minutes, the warm-up ended, and the Gryffindors returned to their tent for a last minute strategy session.

'Right,' said Harry. 'Figure eight formation today. Colin, Seamus, if you accidentally on purpose knock any of those gits off their brooms, don't sweat the penalties. Let's do it.'

Outside, Ron could hear the thunder of footsteps as the crowds entered the stands. The announcer's voice--Terry Boot--boomed about the stadium, and the doors to the pitch opened.

Harry flew out first, followed by the rest of the team, with Ron bringing up the rear. They mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air; Ron flew to the goal posts and hovered.

'Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!' said Terry. 'It's Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Slytherin hasn't beaten Gryffindor in six years, and they're looking for a chance to break Gryffindor's winning streak. Madam Hooch has just entered the pitch. The Bludgers are released. The Snitch is released. And...the Quaffle's loose. The match begins!

'Ginny Weasley takes possession, she passes to Parvati Patil...nice fake out by Patil, she passes back to Lizzie Towler and she...SCORES! Ten points for Gryffindor. Now it's Slytherin in position, Nott has the Quaffle...nice flying, he dodges two Bludgers...he's going for goal...he MISSES, nice save by Ron Weasley.'

Ron smirked at Nott and hurled the Quaffle at Parvati, who caught it neatly in one arm, and the match continued. As expected, the Slytherins played dirty, and the Gryffindors--although they didn't cheat--did give back when they could. The penalties mounted, and the score climbed; Gryffindor maintained a decent lead over Slytherin, but the aggressive play of the Chasers, coupled with the constant attempts by Crabbe and Goyle to unseat Ron whenever they had a chance, made Ron's goalkeeping less than his best.

It was a good forty five minutes of hard playing before Terry suddenly shouted, 'Malfoy has spotted the Snitch.'

Ron caught the Quaffle again and chucked it to Ginny just in time to see Harry dive after Malfoy.

'Go on, Harry!' Ron yelled. He circled the goal posts, reminding himself to pay attention to what he was doing. Crabbe smacked a Bludger at him and Ron rolled out of the way, but the Bludger nicked him on the elbow. Seamus flew over and smacked the Bludger back at Crabbe, where it smacked him in the gut.

Hooch blew her whistle. 'Foul! Penalty to Slytherin.'

Blaise Zabini took possession of the Quaffle and headed toward Ron. Ginny dove at Blaise, swooping under him in a daring circle. Thus distracted, tiny Lizzie Towler flew in and smacked the Quaffle out of Blaise's hands, tossed it to Parvati, who caught it easily, and the three Chasers were headed back toward the Slytherin goal posts.

'Nice turnover by Gryffindor!' Terry Boot yelled. 'Malfoy and Potter still racing for the Snitch...'

Come on, Harry.

Malfoy and Harry were neck and neck, and ramming into one another with every opportunity. Ron forced his attention again back to Keeping, and just in time; Blaise Zabini hurled the Quaffle at the right hand hoop. Ron dove for it and caught it in two hands, his thighs gripping his broom tightly as he rolled over and righted himself.

Zabini grinned at him, as if impressed. Ron nodded and chucked the Quaffle to Lizzie, but something caught his eye in the next instant. It was Nott; he flew over to Goyle and snatched Goyle's bat out of his hand. Harry and Draco were still flying neck and neck, in relentless pursuits of the Snitch, which was bobbing and weaving like mad. Colin smacked a Bludger at the third Slytherin Chaser, who dodged it. Harry inched ahead of Malfoy, he stretched out his fingers toward the Snitch, he was almost there...

Nott smacked Colin's Bludger hard with Goyle's bat, and Ron watched in horror as it sped right at Harry, who was directly in the line of fire.

'Harry, look out!' Ron yelled. Ginny, who had just circled after having scored again on Slytherin, turned sharply at Ron's voice. Harry looked up to see the Bludger flying at him. Seamus smacked the second Bludger toward the first, hoping to stop it with a collision.

With the instincts of a natural born Seeker, Harry yanked his broom up out of the way, but it was too late. The Bludger caught him on the shoulder, hard, and he toppled from his broom; the crowd screamed and Ron, without thinking, flew toward Harry. Ginny was right behind him.

The impact sent the Bludger hurtling away, giving Malfoy the room he needed. Ron watched as Harry tumbled twelve feet to the ground and Malfoy's fingers closed around the Snitch.

Ron barely heard Terry Boot scream 'Slytherin wins!' The Slytherins were all cheering happily but the rest of the crowd was pouring out of the stands.

Ron landed hard and ran to where Harry was lying on the ground. He was conscious.

'Harry!' Ron said urgently. 'Are you okay?'

'Harry!' Ginny cried, and her face was stained with tears. The rest of his team mates were surrounding them now, and Hermione was shoving her way forward, with Professor McGonagall in tow.

Harry coughed; the wind had been knocked out of him. 'I'm okay,' he managed, and he gripped his shoulder, which Ron could see was swelling beneath his Quidditch robes.

'Shit,' Harry hissed. 'I can't believe I didn't see that coming.'

'Language, Mr. Potter,' McGonagall scolded.

'I can't believe we lost,' said Parvati.

Harry looked up at her miserably.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'It's not your fault,' said Lizzie. 'We played a really good match.'

Ginny took Harry's hand in hers and smiled at him ruefully.

'You were brilliant,' she said.

'It's nobody's fault,' said Ron, although he was in agony at the thought of losing the match to Slytherin.

'Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey, Potter,' said McGonagall crisply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later the Gryffindors sat listlessly in the common room. Lunchtime had been something of an agony, with the Slytherins crowing relentlessly about their win. Harry's shoulder had been dislocated and bruised by the Bludger; Madam Pomfrey patched him up easily enough but he had to wear a sling for a few days.

'Honestly,' Hermione huffed when they went to dinner that night, to find the Slytherins still gloating. 'You'd think they've forgotten they've been losing to us for six years.'

'And that this is only the first match of the season,' said Dennis Creevey.

None of this made Ron feel any better. Then Draco Malfoy came over to their table, with Pansy Parkinson in tow.

'Nice match, Potter,' he said, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Ginny, who had finished her meal and was heading back to the common room to study, leaned down and kissed Harry on the mouth. She left with her head held high. Malfoy's teeth were clenched

'You too, Malfoy,' said Harry, smirking. Hermione rolled her eyes but Ron grinned. Malfoy glared at Harry and stalked off, the sweetness of his Quidditch victory clearly tempered by the fact that Ginny was now dating Harry.

'Honestly,' said Hermione. 'Men and their territorial bullshit.'

'Hermione, did you just swear?' said Harry.

'It's Ron's fault,' said Hermione.

'Guilty,' said Ron.

After dinner, Blaise Zabini stopped Harry and Ron on their way back to the common room.

'Listen Potter, Weasley,' he said. 'Sorry about my team mates being...'

'Prats?' said Harry and Ron together.

'Hey, go easy on us,' said Blaise. 'It's the first time we've beaten you in ages.'

'I'm glad someone remembers that,' said Ron.

'Anyway,' said Blaise smoothly, brushing off Ron's comment, 'I just wanted to say good match today. You're still the best flyer in the school, Potter.'

Blaise nodded, turned on his heel and walked away.

'That was weird,' said Harry.

'Slytherin politicking,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Got to promote inter-house unity and all.'

An hour later Ron and Harry were slogging through yet another odious Potions essay. Ginny sat next to Harry with her legs stretched out over his lap. Hermione sat on the hearth rug and Hermione in the chair right next to him. The common room was full, but quiet, and the mood was serious. Ron realized in the back of his mind that it was silly to dwell on their loss today. And all things considered, everyone on the team had taken it well, especially Harry, although Ron had a feeling Ginny had something to do with that.

At that moment, the portrait hole opened and Professor McGonagall came through.

'Potter,' she said, and her voice was hard, but her face was pale and her eyes were red rimmed.

Harry looked up and blanched.

'You need to come with me,' said McGonagall. 'All four of you.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron stood outside the door to Dumbledore's office.

He was numb. He didn't know how long Harry had been in there. Only that it was far longer than he and Hermione had been in there. Ginny had stayed after the two of them were ushered out by McGonagall. Ron had so many questions to ask. Where were the members of the Order? Why weren't they here? The only people in the room had been McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Flitwick, and them. But Hermione knew the answer, knew why Remus Lupin hadn't come, or Ron's parents, or Madam Bones. They wouldn't want it broadcast that Dumbledore was...

Dying.

Dumbledore hadn't said all that much to him, or to Hermione. He was so weak and hopeless looking, in a great oak bed that seemed to swallow him.

'Take care...of Harry...and yourselves...' Dumbledore had managed. 'He is lucky...to have you...and you are lucky...to have each other.'

That was it. Those were the last words Ron would ever hear the old wizard say out loud. He felt a lump form in his throat and swallowed hard. It wasn't fair. How was Harry going to live through this one?

His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore...it's not fair.

Hermione stood silently next to him, holding his hand. She was crying silently. Ron cursed himself silently for not seeing this coming. All the visions he'd had, all the lives he'd help to save, and he couldn't help the person Harry needed the most.

The door to Dumbledore's office opened and Ginny came out; her face was streaked with tears. She looked at Ron and began to cry.

Ron took her in his arms and hugged her to him with one arm, as he clutched Hermione's hand. He felt Ginny's anguish wash over him in waves, and he bit his lip to keep from crying. Someone had to keep it together, and it looked like it would be him.

Ginny's sobs subsided and she stepped back from Ron.

'He...he's better off, really,' she said. 'Dumbledore, I mean. He's so old and weak...he wants to go.'

Hermione sniffed and moved closer to Ron.

'Harry's still in there?' he asked.

Ginny nodded. 'Dumbledore said they needed to talk.'

Ron found himself between his girlfriend and his sister, an arm round each of their shoulders, as they leaned on him. He didn't know long they waited, for the inevitable. They didn't speak, because words were neither needed nor wanted. Ron only knew that when Harry finally came out of the old wizard's office, it would be over.

At least fifteen minutes passed, and by now, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had slid to the floor, leaning against the wall. Ginny dozed off with her head on Ron's shoulder, and Ron and Hermione absently held hands, twining their fingers, seeking comfort from the contact. Ron felt his eyelids droop. He was exhausted, drained, and it struck him that losing a Quidditch match today was meaningless.

He started to drift off...

The banging of the entrance to Dumbledore's office opening snapped him awake, and as one, he, Hermione and Ginny stood up. Harry was walking slowly toward them. His face and eyes were red, swollen. His gait was shuffling, like that of an old man, and Ron saw that Harry did look old. Seventeen, but the pain in his green eyes was that of a man decades older.

Ginny left Ron's side and rushed to Harry, taking his hands in her own. She made a noise in her throat as if to speak, and Hermione suddenly reached for Ron, clinging to him; he held on to her and she trembled.

'H-Harry...' Ginny whispered. Harry looked at her for a long moment, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

'He's gone,' he said, looking at her. And then he looked up at Ron and Hermione, and Ron thought his heart would split in two to see the look in Harry's eyes. His voice shattered when he spoke again.

'Dumbledore's gone.'