Harry Potter and the Elements of Valor

Chapter Thirteen - A Legacy

Harry sat in the common room with Ron, Hermione and Ginny for several hours. Hermione was keen to hear how their practicing had progressed but even more, she wanted to know why Harry suddenly thought he was ready to face Voldemort.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You don't have to do this now you know. Why... school isn't even over. You haven't taken your NEWTs yet or anything."

"Hermione," said Ron with a note of exasperation in his voice. "Do you think Voldemort cares if Harry has any NEWTs? Once he takes over, the school is done...unless you want to learn the dark arts, that is."

"Ron, you know that's not what I mean," she snarled.

"Look," Harry said to them, after re-checking they were the only ones in the common room. "Tomorrow night there'll be a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. I want you all there too. I'll be telling them what I told Voldemort in my letter. And then we'll have to discuss a few things..."

Ron interjected, "like St. Mungo's."

"Yes," said Harry, lowering his voice even more. "And Bagman."

"What about St. Mungo's and Bagman?" asked Hermione.

"I've got a plan to get Bagman out of the way, and to raid St. Mungo's."

"But Harry, there's so little time," said Hermione with a note of desperation in her voice. "According to Ron, you're meeting Voldemort in five days!"

"The more time we spend planning, the more chance for leaks," said Harry. "Too many people know too much already. There are some things I don't want everyone to know." Harry looked up at Ginny. Her fingers were entwined with his across the table and she was staring down at them.

Harry squeezed her hand and then looked hard into their faces. "I'm not telling them the whole plan...but I'm telling you. There have been too many accidents and too much information getting out to the other side. I need every advantage when I fight him and I don't know who to trust...outside of you three. I need each of you to do something specific for me after the duel begins. Ron already knows what to do."

"Harry, what is your plan?" asked Ginny.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. Harry took a deep breath, and then explained, "Ron is going to be under the invisibility cloak. He'll walk out next to me when I meet Voldemort. The ice on the lake won't show footprints, so no one watching will realize what's happening. When it's time for the spell, Ron will link arms with me."

"We're pretty good at it," interjected Ron in an optimistic tone.

"Yes," said Harry. "I think it's as strong as I...we...can manage. If we just have a bit of luck, I think we have a chance," Harry said. "In any case, we need to do it before Voldemort gets much stronger."

Hermione sucked in a breath and looked from one to the other. "But...Still...I don't..." then she seemed to sink down in her chair. Harry knew she wanted to object or argue but that she was at a loss for words.

"Hermione, if things go...badly wrong... I need you to get everyone inside the castle then seal the castle doors. You can all escape through the one-eyed witch passage," Harry said, his voice trailing off. "Take any survivors with you that you can. Voldemort will want to take over Hogwarts if he's beaten me."

"But Harry," began Hermione. "If you're fighting, I want to be there to help."

"Hermione, if I fall, then saving the Order members who are left will be critical. Please say you'll do it," Harry asked urgently.

She nodded.

"Ginny, will you see that Dumbledore gets to safety? He's not well, but he's still the most important wizard in the world, and if I don't succeed...well...you'll all need him."

Ginny did not speak but watched Harry thoughtfully.

Finally she spoke. "Harry, I'll do what ever you need me to, but I refuse to think that you'll fail. I intend to fight the Death Eaters, but if the battle should go against us, I'll get Dumbledore out."

"I'd rather you stayed back...in the castle," Harry replied.

"Of course I can't do that," said Ginny with a slight smile. "I'm a Weasley and I'm going to fight."

Harry did not respond. He knew better than to argue such a point with Ginny when her mind was made up. He only hoped he would be able to find a way to stop her before the battle.

"So you're allowing her to fight, but I can't?" asked Hermione rather upset.

"Hermione, dueling is not your strength, but organization is," said Harry, attempting to appease her. "I need you to be the cool head...Please!"

Hermione nodded and smiled weakly.

The discussion went on for some time. Harry was extremely tired, but Hermione wanted to hear the details of the plans and to dissect each move. He had propped up his weary head in his hands; elbows resting on the table. When one hand slipped and his head bobbed forward, Harry decided that it was time for some sleep. They bade one another good night, and he followed Ron up the stairs to their dormitory room.

He slept well that night. Better perhaps, than he had for weeks. His plan had been set in motion and somehow, it was satisfying to know it would all be over soon.

The next morning, he rose and dressed without waking Ron. Harry walked down to breakfast alone. The Hogwarts grounds had developed a thick blanket of snow over the holidays, covering the unsightly vegetable patch and capping the turrets of the castle in a white and fluffy layer. Overnight, a misty cold rain had fallen and frozen as it fell. By morning, everything was covered in a layer of ice that enclosed each branch and twig on each tree. Even the stone walls of the castle were coated slick with it. Everything glittered and glinted in the bright light of a clear blue sky.

"It's like a fairyland," Harry heard a third year girl exclaim to her friend as they stared out the windows toward the grounds. It was beautiful to look at, he thought. He stared out toward the lake where the hard, icy surface stretched out, surrounded by dark fir trees. Swirls of icy snow whipped across its white, sparkling surface. Harry wondered how much blood would stain that surface in a few days time. Perhaps the blood would be his. He tried to shake the image from his head, then turned away from the window and hurried down toward the Great Hall.

Ginny and Hermione were already at the Gryffindor table when he entered the room. There were only about a dozen people total scattered at the remaining house tables making the room seem rather bleak. Both girls smiled at him as he entered and took a seat across from them.

"Harry, you're not wearing your robes," began Hermione.

Harry had dressed in muggle clothes. He had chosen not to don his school robes, as he had no intention of attending classes. He was about to direct a battle and could not be seen as a student, but as a leader. To avoid a scene, Harry replied, "I must have forgotten. Can you pass that porridge?"

After a hot breakfast, the like of which he had not enjoyed for several months, Harry bade Hermione and Ginny goodbye and headed for Dumbledore's office. He needed to discuss a few things with the headmaster before the evening meeting. There were some precautions that needed to be taken.

He followed the nearly empty corridors to the familiar gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. At the door to the study, he rapped with the brass knocker, and was invited inside by the slightly hoarse voice of the headmaster. Harry found Dumbledore seated at his desk, a pillow propped behind him, with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout sitting grouped around the desk. They all turned as Harry entered the room.

"Harry," said Dumbledore genially. "Please join us."

The teachers looked troubled and tired Harry thought, as he crossed to an empty chair. Dumbledore turned back to his heads of house and said, "So, as I was saying, we will have to send the remaining students home. At the latest, this must be accomplished by Saturday evening."

Harry smiled slightly to himself. This was one of the main purposes of his visit. The students must be sent home before the battle. Obviously, Dumbledore had understood this perfectly well.

"But Albus," said Flitwick, "what will become of the school term. What should we tell the students?"

"I think some may refuse to go," said McGonagall. "They may wish to stay on and fight when they know what is coming."

"Only those who are of age and are willing and prepared to help The Order fight Voldemort should be allowed to remain," said Dumbledore flatly. "And...young Mr. Malfoy is a problem..."

"He certainly can't be sent home where he can give information. What should we do with him?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"I shall make arrangements to have my brother, Aberforth look after him for a few days...until it is over," said Dumbledore gravely.

The teachers all nodded grimly.

"Very well," said McGonagall, who stole a quick look at Harry. "I assume, Potter, that Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger will be staying?"

Harry nodded, "Ginny too."

"Ginny Weasley is not of age," she said, an air of strictness in her voice.

"I think...we will have to make an exception in Miss Weasley's case. Her entire family is likely to be here and I doubt she would go home willingly," explained Dumbledore before Harry had time to say anything.

Harry had always imagined Ginny here, but relatively safe during the battle. Ginny was not, however, one to sit on the sidelines, as she had demonstrated the previous year when the Quidditch match had been attacked. Perhaps it would be better to try to get her to go home to the Burrow. The professor's voices intruded on his thoughts.

"...Hogwarts Express can be in the station Saturday morning. Please say nothing until Minerva makes her announcement. After that...we shall see," Dumbledore was explaining.

The three professors rose slowly and prepared to leave. "Minerva, please make the announcement about the school train at dinner tomorrow night. It will leave the students the rest of the evening to pack before Saturday morning. I will have Draco out of the way before you do it. I don't want him going home with any stray information he may have picked up within the castle. Also...send Hagrid to me immediately."

Professor McGonagall nodded as the three departed.

Harry felt rather that the teachers had avoided looking at him too much. He wondered if it was because they believed he was bringing destruction down on them...on the school. Harry nearly voiced his concern to Dumbledore once the door had closed, but the headmaster spoke first.

"They are worried and they are a bit frightened too. They do not, perhaps, have the level of faith in you that I do, Harry. I am afraid that some of The Order members may react the same way tonight. You, therefore, must act the leader. You have taken on that role by calling out Voldemort. Do you feel ready to take on that most heavy mantle?"

Harry considered this question as he stared at the sorting hat sitting mutely on a shelf. He wondered if the hat had foreseen this in his future. "I don't know if I can convince anyone to follow me. If they don't, I still have to do it, don't I. If they want to survive and to defeat him, they'll have to help me," said Harry flatly.

"Very true, Harry," Dumbledore replied evenly.

"I have a plan, sir, to disrupt his organization and capture a bunch of his Death Eaters. I think it will make things easier," said Harry. He was keen to leave the topic of his personal charisma behind.

Dumbledore smiled at him, "I was hoping you had. Let's hear it."

Harry felt slightly less wound up after explaining his plan to Dumbledore. The old wizard seemed impressed and favorably disposed toward his ideas. Dumbledore wanted Harry to explain it all at the evening meeting. Giving speeches in front a room full of people was not to Harry's taste, but in this case, he had to agree it was his job to present the plan. His stomach tightened up another notch.

As he was about to leave, there was a fresh knock on the door and Hagrid came into the room. Harry had not seen his friend in some time, and his size, as always, was remarkable, as Hagrid filled the open space in the room.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," said Hagrid. "I hear you wanted ter see me."

"Yes, thank you for coming so quickly Hagrid. I wish you to take Draco Malfoy to the Hogs Head before dinner Saturday," said Dumbledore, pulling out a piece of parchment and penning a note. "Give the boy, and this note, over to Aberforth. He will look after Draco for us and keep him incommunicado, so to speak."

"Very good, sir," said Hagrid, taking up the note. "Ya can count on me." Hagrid winked down at Harry who smiled at him, then turned and left the room.

"Does Draco know yet that his father is dead?" asked Harry.

"No... nor does anyone else at this point," relied Dumbledore. "Only The Order knows what happened that night."

"Snape knows," said Harry.

"Yes, however we do not think he told anyone. He probably did not wish to give Voldemort a reason to suspect their plot," replied Dumbledore.

Yes, that would make sense, thought Harry. The greasy git was, after all, only out for himself. He wouldn't really care about Lucius Malfoy.

After leaving Dumbledore's study, Harry found Ron, and the two of them climbed to the top of the Astronomy tower to survey the area and to talk through their plan again, in private. The tower was extremely cold and windy, so after an hour, they decided the common room would be a better choice.

Preparing for the meeting was more work than Harry had anticipated. He began to make some notes, but had to re-do them several times, with the result that he was quite irritable after about two hours work.

Ron broke the tension by pulling Harry's attention back to the rough diagrams that Harry had sketched out. He intended to use them at the meeting.

"Forget the notes and just use these," suggested Ron spreading out one of the better diagrams. "Mum and Dad will be there at the meeting," he said in an off-handed way. "They aren't going to be happy about this at all. If they knew what we're going to do, Mum would go ballistic."

"You don't have to come to the meeting if you think they'll make a scene," said Harry.

"I'm not missing it, mate. I'm of age and they can't stop me. We made pact and I'm going through with it," said Ron, his voice full of resolution. "Don't think you'll get off easy, though. Mum is going to have a few words for you too."

Harry entered the Great Hall that evening for the meeting, feeling a bit queasy. Ron, who followed him through the door, took a seat in the back of the room with Hermione and Ginny. They had agreed it would not do to let anyone think Ron's role was more than a supportive friend.

There were at least thirty people in the room, and more were coming in from the cold, stomping their feet in the entrance hall to remove snow from their shoes, and greeting each other in hushed voices. The grim faces did not appear confident or receptive as they looked at him. Harry would have said they looked apprehensive. And why not? There he was, not yet eighteen and about to call all hell down upon them. He took a seat away from the rest of the group and wished he didn't have to be here.

If only the damned meeting would start, thought Harry as he waited for the group to assemble. In his hand, he grasped several rolls of parchment containing some notes and the diagrams. He now wished he and Ron had done a better job preparing them. They were crude drawings and not likely to instill confidence in the witches and wizards in this room. Harry tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Perhaps he should go in search of Dumbledore ...perhaps the headmaster would agree to explain the plan. Surely, The Order would accept it better if it came from him, instead of Harry. Just as Harry had decided to stand up and go in search of Dumbledore, a hush fell over the room.

Dumbledore entered the room, leaning heavily on a walking stick. "Thank you all for coming here tonight," he said, moving slowly through the crowd toward the front of the room. Dumbledore stopped in front of an empty chair and faced the group. "As I indicated in the communication, this meeting is of vital importance. You will doubtless have noticed that we are joined tonight by Harry Potter. Harry will be addressing us in a moment."

Harry's stomach was knotted so tightly that he thought he might be sick right here in front of the whole group.

"First, I need to fill you all in on something of great importance. We have been fighting Lord Voldemort for a long time now. During all these years, I have kept one very important fact from you. It was necessary that I keep this information secret so as to protect Harry." The room was deadly silent. "Harry Potter was designated by a prophecy, made before his birth, to be the only person who can kill Voldemort. Voldemort himself sealed the terms of the prophecy when he attacked Harry as a baby."

There was a communal intake of breath around the room. Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley who already knew the truth and saw his jaw tighten and his eyes become tense. Faces were turning toward Harry surreptitiously. "Harry will address us now," Dumbledore said as he sunk heavily into his chair.

Harry cleared his throat and climbed to his feet. The room full of wizards twisted in their seats to face him. Mrs. Weasley was clutching at her husbands arm, shock on her face. Fred and George were looking at him with awe. Lupin, who also knew the truth, was not looking at Harry but staring at the floor.

Harry was not fond of the role of speechmaker. Fighting was one thing, and making a speech to convince others to fight, was quite another. He felt flushed and a bit dizzy with everyone looking up at him, waiting to hear what he'd say. Still, he could not let on that he was wishing he were anywhere else but standing before them. He was about to face Voldemort and it was important to inspire confidence in those who would be standing by when he did it. He rubbed his slightly sweaty palms on the sides of his pants legs and then said what he had rehearsed in his head.

"Thank you all for coming," he began. He thought his voice sounded thin and hollow in the silent room. "As Professor Dumbledore said, it seems I have to face Voldemort. I've been training for this since I found out, with Professor Dumbledore's help and also Mac's...I mean Professor MacNessa." He nodded in Mac's direction.

"I'm ready now," he said, attempting to make his voice sound confident, "and I've invited Voldemort to face me in a duel." Harry registered the faces in the room wince when he said the name. "It will take place on Monday."

Voices rose up from around the Great Hall. Questions and exclamations of shock and disbelief broke out from all corners of the room. Harry ignored them all and plowed on. "I can use your help if you're willing. If not, I'll understand."

"You may be The Boy Who Lived, but you're still very young. What do you know about fighting Voldemort?" came the question from a wizard that Harry had seen at Grimmauld Place, but had never met.

Before he could answer, a witch spoke up. "If you're destined to fight him, why do it now? Is there a reason to do it now, when you're so young? Why not wait?"

A third voice said, "If he's our last hope, shouldn't we be sure he's ready?"

Heated conversations filled the room all around him.

"Quiet...Please!" said Dumbledore in a commanding voice that reverberated throughout the hall. He did not sound weak or sick as he rose from his chair again. "Harry has faced more dangers than anyone else in this room. He has fought Voldemort and escaped to tell the tale, not once, but five times to date. He has fought Death Eaters and beaten them as well. He has nothing to prove in that regard."

"Harry!" said Fred Weasley, rising from his place. George stood too. "If you fight him, George and I will be beside you, mate!"

The sound increased again as some of the people began to rise from their chairs saying, 'I'm with you too,' or 'Count me in'. Kingsley was standing, and Tonks. Mr. Weasley, and Ron's other brothers all stood.

The room was total confusion as more of them stood while others didn't. Lupin rose, and spoke over the dim of grating of chair legs on the stone floor, trying to restore order. "This isn't a vote. We're here to listen to Harry's plan. Anyone who doesn't fancy helping him can freely leave. Let's allow Harry to explain what he needs from us, shall we?" The group settled back into their chairs and turned their attention to Harry.

"I'll explain my plan, then," said Harry hurriedly. He thought it best to keep going and ignore any looks of incredulity still aimed at him.

"The thing is, Voldemort and I have a date for a duel on Monday, out on the lake. He'll want to bring his Death Eaters with him. If I win, then they'll all be gathered in one spot and much easier to round up. If I lose, then they will follow their master as he tries to take Hogwarts. So the best thing is if there are fewer of them here that day begin with."

"Fewer Death Eater...wouldn't that be nice!" came a sarcastic voice from the back.

Harry sucked in a breath, and then continued, "The Death Eaters have a headquarters in the dungeon of St. Mungo's. I've been there and seen it." The room went silent. "The only way to raid St Mungo's is with the consent of the Ministry of Magic. Ludo Bagman is a Death Eater, so he'd never consent to send the Aurors in." Heads nodded around the room. Harry was glad Dumbledore had shared this information with them so he wouldn't have to explain.

"I want The Order to kidnap Bagman, then I thought we could use Polyjuice potion to impersonate him, and order the raid." The group was listening intently, now. Harry unrolled his diagram of St. Mungo's and pointed out where they would need to enter. "If we can capture a bunch of the Death Eaters unawares, then there will be less of them here come Monday when I face Voldemort. The fewer there are, the fewer we'll have to fight."

A rumble of approval met his words. Small knots of people began talking amongst themselves. Harry was about to call for quiet when Dumbledore spoke, and the room settled down.

"Please, allow Harry to explain the entire plan," he said. Harry smiled at him gratefully as the faces of the crowd returned to him more eagerly now.

Before Harry could continue, a familiar figure rose from his seat. "I'll impersonate Bagman," said Conner MacNessa. "I know what kinds of orders the Aurors are likely to follow and what the procedures are. I'll be able to go with them and make sure they do what we need them to."

"But, Mac," said Harry, completely surprised by this offer. "I thought you didn't want to..."

"I know what I said, boy," replied Mac gruffly. "This is different, and I believe you need my help."

Harry knew that Mac had spent years refusing to help in the fight against Voldemort for fear that he'd cause the deaths of more men under his command. He was, of course, the perfect choice for this particular mission, having been an Auror, but Harry had entertained no hope that he would be willing to take on the job. Harry smiled at him. "Thanks."

The discussion continued and assignments were given. After two hours, which seemed like ten to Harry, the meeting began to break up. He did not know what reaction he had expected from these secret fighters against Voldemort; solidarity, fear, pity? The reaction however seemed serious and tense, as though they were all very angry and worried at the same time.

As people began to leave the hall, Mrs. Weasley accosted him. "Harry James Potter, I forbid you to do this...this...thing. It's just foolish and dangerous. Please...please... don't do it." Her eyes were red and glistening as she grasped his arms earnestly. Mr. Weasley was attempting to pull her away, as Ron joined Harry.

"Mum," he said softly. "You can't stop him. Harry has to do it."

"But..." began Mrs. Weasley limply, as though she was in complete shock and therefore speechless. "He'll...he'll die, Arthur," she said in a small desperate voice as Mr. Weasley led her away. Harry heard her repeat, 'he'll die," as she was supported out of the hall by her husband.

Harry looked after her as the room emptied. Dumbledore stopped as he passed. "I asked Alastor Moody, Conner, Arthur and Kingsley to join us tomorrow to discuss the raid. They will be here after breakfast...in my office."

Harry registered how weak and ill Dumbledore again appeared, now the meeting was over. He nodded in agreement as the old wizard passed him. Harry wondered if the headmaster wasn't marshalling his remaining strength to help Harry, at great personal risk to his own health.

The meeting the next morning was quite brief. This was a group of seasoned wizards who had had worked against Voldemort and his Death Eaters for years. They knew what needed to be done, and soon all the particulars were arranged for. As they spoke together, they looked very grim and generally seemed to avoid looking at Harry.

As the meeting wound down, Harry spoke up, "I want to come along on the raid." The men all turned to look at him, their faces taut.

"Harry, the entire reason for the raid, according to your own explanation, is to make it easier for us to succeed against Voldemort on Monday. If you are hurt or killed in the raid it's all for naught," said Kingsley in calm but firm voice.

Mac put a hand on Harry's arm. "You've called the devil himself down on us, boy. I know it's your destiny, but now you have to let others do what they can to help give you the best possible chance. Sometimes a real leader must simply stand by and hope the plan he has set in motion will succeed."

Harry nodded feeling faintly sick. It was impossible to argue with the logic of it. He had called Voldemort down on them, but sitting on the sidelines was not at all to Harry's taste.

After the meeting, Harry sought out Ron and asked him to come with him to the Room of Requirement for some spell practice. Ron looked as edgy as he felt, and the practice did not go well. Their timing was off as Harry kept thinking about the plans for the raid, which caused him to lose concentration during the spell. When he produced a sudden rain shower to drench the two of them, they decided to give it up for the day.

Harry was tense and angry with himself over his bad performance, as well as soaked through. As they stalked down the corridor, soaked and cold, Ron was telling him not to worry, that it was just nerves, but Harry was sure Ron was concerned as well. What if he got out there, in front of Voldemort and just forgot what to do?

They were rounding a corner on the seventh floor, on their way back to Gryffindor tower when they heard a shout, followed by a scream of pain, from a side corridor. They instinctively drew their wands and ran toward the sound.

Ginny was lying on the stone floor, writhing in pain, as Malfoy stood over her, his wand pointed at her. "You dirty blood-traitor. How could you ever kill my father? You're nothing but a filthy liar!" Malfoy's face was red with hatred.

"Malfoy!" shouted Harry sprinting forward. Malfoy turned, lifting the curse from Ginny, and took aim at Harry. Harry did not raise his own wand, but flung it aside and charged head long at Malfoy. Anger such as he could not remember had ignited inside him. He wanted to rip Malfoy into a hundred pieces. He wanted to pound that nasty, smirking face into a pulp. Malfoy and his entire family were rotten to the core and Harry could no longer restrain himself.

Pent-up tension poring to the surface like hot molten lava, Harry leapt on to Malfoy, knocking him to the floor. Malfoy began to scream as Harry pounded him with unbridled fury. He was sure he was cursing as he slugged Malfoy, but he could not recall it later.

"What the..." came a voice above the melee. "Ron... help me break em apart!" yelled Hagrid, striding up.

Ron was bent over Ginny and trying to raise her to a sitting position. She waved him away.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" stormed Hagrid as he prised Harry off Malfoy and then put himself between them.

Malfoy was bloodied and bruised. Freed from Harry's grasp, he slumped back to the floor, feeling his mouth, which appeared to be missing several teeth. Harry was breathing hard and still felt murderous.

"He...cursed...Ginny," Harry managed, gasping for breath. "The Cruciatus curse."

"I'm getting you out of here now, you little ferret!" said Hagrid, turning to Malfoy. He grabbed the collar of Malfoy's robes and pulled him upright. "You're with me!" Released from Hagrid's grip, Harry made to rush at Malfoy again, but Hagrid elbowed him aside. Then he half-dragged, half-pushed Malfoy down the hall toward the staircase, a trail of blood droplets left on the floor in their wake.

"What happened?" Harry asked Ginny, wiping blood from his own mouth with the back of his hand. "Why did he attack you?"

Ginny winced and sat up a bit straighter. "I think he must have overheard Hermione and me talking in the Library. I thought we were being quiet, but he must have been lurking nearby," she explained. "Hermione was still on about not being allowed to fight, and the bit about Lucius Malfoy came up. Malfoy cornered me here on my way back to Gryffindor tower. He didn't believe it. He thought we were making it up, I think."

"Are you alright?" asked Harry, offering her his hand.

In answer, Ginny got to her feet with his help, and brushed off her robes. "I'll be fine," she said. "But, I should be asking you that question, Harry. You look a mess."

Harry knew he needn't have brawled with Malfoy. He could have easily stunned him. Draco Malfoy was not nearly fast enough to stand a chance in a duel with Harry, not at this point. However, as keyed up as Harry was, it did not take much to push him over the edge. The pounding he had just given Draco had only slightly abated the tension twisting inside him.

Ginny had insisted on going to her next class with Flitwick, saying that she felt fine. She and Harry exchanged a quick kiss, although Ginny had to dab away some blood from the corner of his mouth first.

Harry spent the rest of the day with Ron in a corner of the common room. They were disrupted for a short while around dinnertime as the few remaining students returned to Gryffindor tower, in a state of agitation, to begin packing. McGonagall's announcement that everyone would be sent home was met with something between apprehension and shock by the students. It was to be expected. They had no idea what was about to transpire. They had only been told that the school was too dangerous at the present time and that they were being sent home.

Shortly after their fight, Harry had glimpsed Hagrid from a window in Gryffindor tower, herding Draco from the castle and down toward the gates. He was sure Draco was being taken to Aberforth in Hogsmeade.

The following morning all the students were removed from the castle, sent off in carriages down to the train station, all except for Ginny, Hermione and Ron. Mrs. Weasley had sent an owl in the afternoon, in which she implored Ron and Ginny to come home. It was clear that Mr. Weasley understood they would not desert Harry at this time, and was not making similar demands. The four of them spent a quiet evening in the common room playing a subdued game of wizard chess.

Harry was on edge and could not concentrate on the game. Tonight, a select group led by Remus Lupin, was going to attempt to abduct Ludo Bagman. It had to be done carefully. It was important that Bagman's capture remain completely secret, as they needed to install Mac in Bagman's place. This was critical to the success of the raid on St. Mungo's.

Again, Harry was not to be included in this action, so he watched the clock and as midnight struck, he wondered if the group had succeeded yet in kidnapping the Minister of Magic. At two o'clock, the portrait hole finally opened and Bill Weasley clambered inside. He looked wind swept, as though he had just flown in by broom.

"We got bad information, Harry," said Bill tersely. Harry's heart sank. "We didn't get him. It seems Bagman was out of London today on a trip to visit relatives. He's returning tomorrow. We're all going to catch a few hours of sleep and then try again in the morning." Bill looked at Harry. "This may mean postponing the raid by one day, you realize."

Harry felt a tinge of fear rush through him. If the raid were delayed, there would be little time between it and his duel. Harry had planned the timing so there would be a day for the members of the raiding party to recover before he faced Voldemort, and before they needed to fight again.

Bill seemed to sense what Harry was thinking. "Don't worry. It's still a good plan, Harry. We can still do it." This was little consolation as Harry watched Bill climb back out the portrait hole, heading for his own quarters and a short rest.

"I need to see Dumbledore," said Harry, coming out of his stupor.

"Harry, nothing will happen now until morning," said Ginny in soothing voice. "Get some sleep and talk to him then."

A cyclone of emotions was keeping Harry wound up so tightly he could no longer relax or concentrate...or... probably...sleep. He flopped down on the sofa by the fire, knowing she was right, but wishing he could do something other than wait.

Ginny took a seat on the sofa and put his head in her lap. She stroked his hair and face. His head was pounding and her ministrations felt soothing. He closed his eyes as the various scenarios where Bagman could not be found in time, played out over and over in his mind. Finally, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

"We got him!" came the jubilant announcement that shocked Harry awake. He sat up groggily and found he was covered in a blanket, still lying on the common room sofa.

Light was streaming in through the windows and Crookshanks was curled up next to him. It must be at least nine in the morning he thought.

Bill was standing before him, "We got him at his home, Harry! He never even saw us coming. We knocked him out and brought him here. He's locked up in the cell Snape had, below the entrance hall. Conner is preparing to assume Bagman's identity right now...took some of Bagman's hair while he was unconscious," Bill explained. "It went very smoothly."

"What time is it?" asked Harry, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

"Nearly noon," said Bill. Then seeing the look on Harry's face, he continued, "We decided it's too late to call for the raid today. The Order members were up all night trying to track down Bagman. So...Mac is going to go in to the Ministry and make an appearance. Then he'll be able to make sure he has all the Aurors at his disposal tomorrow."

"But then...." began Harry. He could hardly say it. They would be cutting it all very fine. If anything else went wrong...then what?

"It might even be better this way," said Bill, bracingly. "Tomorrow is Sunday and there will be fewer employees at St. Mungo's...fewer by-standers in the way." He smiled encouragingly at Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm going to contact Dad." Then Bill left.

Harry traipsed down to the entrance hall and spotted Lupin standing guard in front of the door that led down to the cell where Bagman was being kept. He gave Lupin a small wave before going into the Great Hall for some lunch. The first part of his plan had been successful. Right now, Mac was impersonating the Minister of Magic. Tomorrow night it seemed, The Order aided by the Aurors, would raid St. Mungo's.

Harry knew he must look a fright as he approached his friends who were having lunch together. They all stopped and looked up at him with unease when he approached the table. "Hi," he managed as he sat down.

"Did you sleep alright, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Great," he lied. "Just great."

It seemed they had seen Bill and knew about Bagman. This left little to discuss so the table was very quiet. Small, everyday things seemed too mundane to bring up, so they ate lunch with very little conversation.

"I don't know what Dumbledore has in mind for Bagman," replied Harry, when Hermione raised the question after a very long silence. He took a drink of pumpkin juice and stabbed at his roast potato with his fork. "I don't care what they do with him. I guess we'll worry about that after Monday." Harry, having no appetite, finally pushed his plate away.

His friends winced at the mention of Monday. There was a finality to the word that made it hang in the air ominously.

Harry was on tender-hooks the rest of the day. There seemed to be nothing he could do. He had volunteered to make up the Polyjuice potion that Mac needed to take each hour, but Mac told him that he had a sufficient supply for the task. He tried to practice with Ron in the afternoon, in the Room of Requirement, but again he found that he could not focus.

"I'll be alright when we're in front of the real thing," he told Ron as they gave it up as a bad job, after two hours. Ron nodded confidently at him, but in his heart, Harry re-played the same doubt that had arisen the previous day. What if he completely crumbled when Voldemort and he were face-to-face? What if he couldn't manage the spell at all?

That night was no better than the previous one. Harry tossed and twisted in his bed, getting up frequently to check the time, then pounding his pillow as he tried to get comfortable and relax. His dreams were not the comforting kind either. They were full of ominous black figures with snake-like faces, bearing down on him while shrieks and cries of pain rose around him.

Before dawn, he rose and dressed in the darkness. He did not wake Ron who was snoring loudly in the next bed. Wrapping his cloak around himself, he set off for the Astronomy tower. He had to prove to himself that he could still bring off a decent air spell. Two days of failed practices were now making him crazy with worry.

The empty castle was a relief this morning, because he met no one, nor did he expect to, as he made his way to top of the tower. Harry stood on the wind-swept parapet and gazed up at the fathomless black sky. He thought of his parents and of Sirius who had died to protect him. He could not let them down. He had to do this and do it right.

Harry gathered himself and raised his arms, then tapped into the magic from deep within himself. The familiar feeling surged through him as the storm formed over his head, lightening flashing. With all the force of his pent-up agitation, he directed the lightening blast at the ground. It made a loud, satisfying, crack as it slammed into the lawn, far below.

Harry felt slightly better as he made his way back down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. He thought he might even be able to manage a bit of food this morning.

The Great Hall now held an assortment of wizards and witches from The Order, huddled in small groups at various house tables. Harry spotted Hermione who was seated alone with a copy of the Daily Prophet propped up in front of her. He strode quickly past everyone else and took a seat next to her.

Hermione cleared her throat. "What...em...should we be doing today?" she asked tentatively.

"Well...everyone will get an assignment later today, but really, there will only be two groups; those fighting, and those helping the injured," said Harry in a falsely calm voice that did not seem like his own. He reached for a plate of eggs and spooned some on to his plate. He looked up, and those seated about the room looked away, or back at their own plates.

"It's like they're afraid of me," said Harry in a whisper.

"Of course they are, Harry. What do you expect? They don't know all that's been leading up to this, and they don't really know you either. And, even if they did, they'd be bound to be concerned," said Hermione.

She was right of course, but the pronouncement seemed to deflate the tiny bubble of hope that bringing off the air spell had produced in him. Harry had felt like a person alone, since his and Ron's return from Scotland. Everyone was treating him very carefully. Everyone seemed to be avoiding saying what they really thought. Ginny was the exception. However, even though she did not look away from him, but looked deeply into his eyes... and his soul... she said very little.

Harry finished his breakfast in silence. Ron and Ginny came into the hall as the grey morning light began to fill the room. Ginny took a seat next to Harry, while Ron plopped down across from him.

"Dismal lot, aren't they?" Ron said, taking a bowl of porridge, and looking around the room.

Ginny did not respond, but rested her hand on Harry's leg, under the table. It felt warm and reassuring and he was grateful for this small token of affection.

"C'mon Ron, let's...take a fly around the pitch," said Harry, jumping up from the table nervously.

"I'm just eating," complained Ron, thickly, through a mouthful of hot porridge.

"Bring it with you," said Harry.

Ron stuck a piece of toast into his mouth and picked up his half eaten porridge, then followed Harry from the room, looking back at Hermione and Ginny, and shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione finished her paper and stood up to leave.

"Hermione, wait," said Ginny, grabbing her wrist.

"What is it?" asked Hermione turning back toward her.

"I have a question," Ginny said, a note of hesitation in her voice. "Do you think that it's ever all right to do something sort of under-handed if it will result in something good?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, considering Ginny.

"Well...for example, would it be wrong to...em...steal food if you were stealing it to save a starving person?"

Hermione looked at her and made a face, "I guess it would depend if that were the only way for the person to get food."

Ginny scowled, "That wasn't a good example."

As she cast about for a better one, Hermione sank back down next to her. Ginny tried again, "What if you...did something people would frown upon....but it was completely out of love and a wish to do something important and...right."

"What exactly are you talking about?" asked Hermione, a note of exasperation in her voice.

Ginny sighed, "It's only a hypothetical question, Hermione. It's...it's..." She paused then said in a business-like way, "We have more important things to worry about right now, don't we. Just forget it."

Hermione looked lost, but followed Ginny as she rose and walked towards the door. "I hope Harry can concentrate on his flying enough that he doesn't fall off his broom. Some fresh air will do him good," she said casually. Hermione watched her friend with a frown.

Harry paced the common room that afternoon, full of nervous energy. After trying to distract him, his friends finally left him to pace. He felt immensely guilty at having set something so dangerous as this raid, in motion, then sitting back to watch the outcome from a safe distance. It was not like him and he did not enjoy the sensation.

Ginny watched him with concern. Occasionally, when he sat down, she would squeeze his hand in a reassuring manner. He felt guilty that he could not return her gesture just now. He was much too keyed up. The entire day passed this way.

At dusk, Harry was summoned to the anteroom off the Great Hall to meet with Dumbledore before dinner. On the way down, he ran into Professor McGonagall at the top of the marble stairs as he made his way toward the entrance hall. She looked very care -worn and glanced at Harry with great sympathy on her face. Harry took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him.

"Professor," he said. "How ill is Professor Dumbledore?"

McGonagall turned away and did not look at him. "I'm afraid, Potter, that the headmaster is overexerting himself just now. He's very old you know, and he's felt poorly for several months." She stopped and put a hand on his arm. Harry could see tears standing in her eyes. "Albus would not want you worrying over him at this time. Keep your mind on the task, Potter, won't you. It's the most important thing that could be."

The noise of talk filtered into the entrance hall as Harry descended the last steps. Luckily, Harry knew a way into the anteroom from the entrance hall, which did not involve crossing the Great Hall, which was full of diners. He didn't fancy being stared at any more than necessary.

Dumbledore was sitting in a large chair staring into a roaring fire when Harry entered the room. He noted how the tall, thin wizard seemed to have shrunken of late. Dumbledore looked up gravely, and motioned to an empty chair near him.

He looked intently at Harry and without a preamble asked, "Are you very sure?" He looked expectant, "Are you completely sure?"

Harry gave a bitter laugh. "How could I be," he asked angrily. "No, I'm not sure, but that doesn't really matter, does it. The time has come, whether I'm ready for him or not. You know that." Harry rose and walked to the window, staring out into the blackness.

Dumbledore continued to stare into the flames. "Do you wish to wait?" he asked without expression.

Harry did not turn around, as he answered, "No, sir."

"Then we will get everyone ready...ready for the morning." The headmaster slowly raised himself, steadying himself on his cane. He began hobbling toward the door. The sound of the cane striking the floor roused Harry from his thoughts. He turned and came forward to help.

"You aren't well yet, sir," said Harry, "You should be in bed."

Dumbledore rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "There is nothing more important than this, Harry." At the door he stopped. "You are very tense, Harry. I can see it in your face and feel it in your voice. You must master your emotions and you must keep focused on the task ahead. Do not become distracted...and Harry, get some rest."

"I'll...try sir," Harry said, holding the door for the headmaster.

The Great Hall was not full. Not the way it was when the student body was in residence. The faces at the tables were not the smooth, round faces of children. The mood was not buoyant. The faces were grim and the mood, strained. When Harry and Dumbledore entered, the assembled group turned toward them irresistibly. The room was silent but for the sound of their steps approaching the head table. Dumbledore motioned Harry to sit. He, himself addressed the assemblage.

"We are all of us here to assist Harry in any way we can as he attempts to defeat Lord Voldemort. Some of you will be going on the raid tonight. I wish you good luck. You... all of you, are true and loyal supporters of The Order of the Phoenix. We now face our most difficult moment. Harry has been tested before by Voldemort, and has thwarted and escaped him. Tomorrow, Harry will face him again. We must help him as we can, for Voldemort has powerful allies who will not care if the fight is fair."

As Dumbledore made to sit down, Harry felt disconnected from himself, as though he were looking at this moment through a Pensieve, merely an invisible observer. A cough from the assembled wizards brought him back to reality. "Albus," said Mad Eye Moody, rising from his seat. "We can hold the Death Eaters back a while longer, and Voldemort too. The battle need not take place tomorrow. The boy doesn't have to face him yet." The old Auror's words made Harry's face go hot and his throat constrict.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but Harry found himself rising to his feet and all eyes turning toward him. "Uhh...Listen, I don't know why I was chosen to do this, but it seems I was. If I fail, then it will take as many of you as possible to resist Voldemort. The longer I wait, the more people will die. I... can't allow that. The longer I wait the stronger Voldemort becomes. At least, after tomorrow, you'll know what comes next." The room was still...the plates of food going cold in the silence.

"I'll leave you all to eat in peace," said Harry, moving around the table and striding toward the door. He paused at the last table and bent near his friends. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny... I'll see you in the common room later." They all nodded to him and he turned and left the hall. The stone floors and marble staircases rang chilly and empty as he climbed to Gryffindor tower. A few candles and torches were lit, but for the most part, the corridors were dark and deserted. When Harry reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he said, "apocalypse," and she swung open without comment.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione returned within the hour, all looking pale. They took seats automatically around the fire where they had done their homework together in happier times.

Madam Pomfrey came in through the portrait hole a few moments later. The last time Harry could recall seeing her within Gryffindor tower was the night Ron had nearly been killed by Percy. She appeared very somber and she was carrying a goblet that was covered over by a cloth. "Potter," she said, and he rose to his feet. "Professor Dumbledore has sent you this draught of Dreamless Sleep. He feels that you are entitled to a night without nightmares. He is concerned that He -Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might attempt to intrude on your thoughts tonight. He also feels that you are far too agitated for your own good. He wishes you to leave your concerns about the raid to him tonight, and get some rest."

There was a note lying across the top of the cup in the fine thin penmanship Harry recognized as the headmaster's script. He took the note and opened it.

Harry,

This potion will allow you a few hours of dreamless sleep. I think it will do you some good. It will not muddle your head, but allow you to awake refreshed. Please use it tonight.

Dumbledore

He took the cup from the matron. "Thanks," he said. He was quite good at keeping Voldemort out of his head now. Still it was a kind and thoughtful gesture. Madam Pomfrey looked him up and down, as though trying to decide what potions it might take to heal him the next time she saw him. He rather hoped that she'd get her chance.

"Harry, if I'm not convinced you will take this potion, I am commanded by the headmaster to force it down your throat. So what shall it be?" she asked.

"I swear I'll take it," said Harry, amused.

As she left, Harry set the cup down on the table.

It had been arranged that Fred and George would join Ron in the sixth year's dormitory room for the night, leaving Harry alone in the seventh year's room. They had decided Harry should have the dormitory room to himself, and undisturbed that night. The rest of the guests in the castle were going to sleep in the Hufflepuffs' quarters, being nearer to the entrance hall.

There seemed to be little left to say. The plans were set. They each knew what they must do in the morning. Everyone seemed to be lost in his or her own thoughts. Harry's head began to ache slightly, and he decided he would go up to bed. He didn't think he could stand the stricken looks on the faces of his friends any longer.

Harry said good night stiffly. They all stood. Hermione hugged him hard and then ran for the door to the girl's dormitory, her hands covering her face. Ron just looked at him. "Tomorrow then, mate," he said. Ginny moved over to him and embraced him. Ron looked away as they kissed. Harry's lips felt very dry and brittle against her moist, soft ones. Ginny backed away and let go of his hands, then followed Hermione toward the girl's dormitory.

At that moment, Fred and George climbed in through the portrait hole. "Harry, how are you doing?" asked Fred.

"As well as....I'm ok," Harry said half-heartedly. "I just wish I knew how the raid was going. Lupin was supposed to send me an owl."

"Easy mate. It's not that late. They haven't even started yet," said George.

"Tell you what, if any news comes, we'll wake you up, how's that?" asked Fred.

Harry could see they were all in accordance that he needed his sleep, and determined that he would have it. They were probably right. He picked up the goblet that Madam Pomfrey had delivered, rested a hand over the top so the contents wouldn't spill, and then he walked toward the stairs. Ron, Fred and George trailed behind him.

"Sleep well, Harry," said George seriously. "Call us if you need anything."

Harry nodded and climbed the stairs to his dormitory room.

~

It couldn't end this way, she thought. Even though she knew it had to be done, knew he had to face Voldemort, still she felt angry that they would allow him to attempt this. She wanted to scream but held her silence. Harry was, after all, more than just a boy she loved. He was the possible savior of their world.

Harry had decided what he had to do, and it left her only one thing. She had rolled it over and over in her head. She had thought so many times how she would express it, and what the reaction might be. She had tried to talk to Hermione about it, but could not bring herself to explain it.

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed. She tested her feelings and knew that her love for Harry was the only thing that really mattered at this moment. She rose and looked at herself in the mirror, fingers touching the charm hanging round her neck, that he had given her less than a year before...his mother's charm. There was no turning back for Harry, nor for her. She moved quickly and quietly, following Harry's path to the top of Gryffindor tower.

~

In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never felt so alone. He was sure Dumbledore was right to have had everyone, including Ron, allow him a good night's sleep. Still the dormitory room was too quiet. The entire castle was too quiet, and he was too alone.

In the back of his head, a small voice was speaking words of self-pity. Here he was, about to attempt to save the wizarding world. He was about to attempt to avenge his parents and Sirius, to name a few, and he was left in this room alone... with a sleeping draught...as alone as the night he had been left on a doorstep.

He knew he had no right to feel sorry for himself. He had chosen this path, so he let his thoughts turn to the first time he had seen Hogwarts castle, and how very magical it had seemed. It had seemed full of happy, positive, and exciting possibilities. Now it was an outpost of resistance to the greatest dark wizard of the age.

Harry looked down at the potion Dumbledore had left him and decided it was probably best that he take it. Dreams were one thing, but Harry was generally inclined toward nightmares and he needed to calm his fevered mind, not inflame it. It was very true that his dreams had been disturbing over the years and at times...prophetic. He had glimpsed Mr.Weasley being attacked by a snake. He had seen Sirius in the Department of Mysteries.

Should he relinquish what might be his last dreams ever, in favor of nothingness? Probably.

He turned and faced the window. Bare-footed and bare-chested, having donned his pajama bottoms, he leaned his shoulder against the window sash, looking down on the castle grounds. Tomorrow... he thought... tomorrow it would be over. He would be dead or he would be a hero, or perhaps, both. He longed for it to be over, longed not to live with the constant threat of capture, torture and death. He was not afraid of death. He did not fear it. He wanted life, but he knew that Voldemort must die no matter what that cost him.

He looked down into the cup of potion in his hand. Dreamless Sleep. He swirled the contents then tipping it back, took a large swallow draining half the goblet.

Immediately he felt as though a calming warmth of contentment was spreading through him, making the tension in his muscles relax, and his anxiety melt away. Harry had taken this potion once before, in his fourth year, after his fight with Voldemort. He crossed to his bed and set the half-emptied goblet on the bedside cabinet. He climbed into his old four-poster and sunk down against his cool pillows. Blowing out the candle, he pulled the blankets up around himself. He meant to pick up the cup and finish the potion, but it suddenly seemed a long way to reach, and he felt so very warm and comfortable just lying where he was. His brain was lulling him into a deep, dark, oblivion.

A creak and a sudden ray of yellow light caused Harry to try to turn his head and open his eyes. Then the light was gone. The soft click of a door lock followed. Probably Ron, he thought foggily. Harry's sense of time had abandoned him as he breathed slowly and deeply. He had the sensation that someone was standing near the bed, but it was such an effort to open his eyes. He was certain it must be Ron. The feeling persisted and finally he blinked his eyes open. Illuminated by the pale moonlight, a figure stood over him. It was a beautifully dreamy image that made Harry sigh. The figure, clothed in gossamer mist was looking down at him. Harry blinked slowly.

She pulled back the covers, climbing into Harry's bed. Her cool fingers caressed his bare chest as she moved against him. If this was dreamless sleep, it was amazing. Automatically, it seemed, because he certainly couldn't will his brain to act, he enfolded her in his arms and she pressed her lips to his. He returned her kisses, long and slow, as silky hair fell in a curtain around his face.

Then she pulled back slowly... gracefully, and sat up. Everything was hazy as he gazed up at her. She was like a spirit, barely material; reminiscent of an enchanted princess from a picture book he had seen when he was very young.

"Harry, I love you and it...it can't end like this. If he should kill you tomorrow...it just can't end like this."

Her voice was like a swirling night breeze to Harry. The words were a jumble to him. What they were didn't matter; he was content just to hear their sound. Anyway, it was too difficult to think about the words.

She pulled something gauzy up over her head, which looked like a cloud in the moonlight. That must be it. They were floating on a cloud under the moon thought Harry, drowsily. The ground was far, far below. In the dreamy dizziness, he could see her soft curves as she found her way back into his arms. He stroked her skin and it made him tingle. What a very good dream, he thought as she reached down and pulled loose the drawstring on his pajamas.

He felt her shake a little, as she fumbled with the tie. There was a monetary trepidation in her kiss. Something in the very back of Harry's head told him this apparition was not the effect of the potion, and although it was easy to glide along, allowing the dreamlike state to continue, he felt there was something he was missing, something he should understand about this ethereal phantom.

Harry fought to swim up to full consciousness. The potion kept pulling him back toward docile forgetfulness, so he closed his eyes tightly, tried to gather his wits, and then forced them opened.

He was holding...Ginny... not an apparition, but the real person. The girl he loved was in his bed with him.

She took his breath away, and the potion seemed to tell him it didn't matter why she was here, or from where she had come, be it dream or reality. He just pulled her tightly to him. His lips were on hers and she returned his kisses with abandon. He moved his mouth down over her throat, feeling her shiver as he did so. His fingers ran along her smooth, soft thigh as she nuzzled his neck. Harry was still apprehensive that she might vanish into thin air if he let go of her. As he moved on top of her, he looked into her eyes. They were filled with the same longing he felt. She pulled him against her, joining her lips to his again.

As the force of desire rushed through him, he realized there was something he should have asked. Although, perhaps she was a spirit and it didn't matter. "Ginny," he whispered, barely pulling his lips away from hers. "Protection... shouldn't we do something....a spell or...something?"

"I...don't want us to do anything," was the soft, yet hesitant reply.

Harry's still foggy brain tried to recall all that Remus had explained to him about this particular situation. He really wanted to resume kissing her but he was quite sure where it was leading, and her answer, therefore, made no sense.

"Ginny..." he began. But the misty look of longing left her eyes, and was replaced by the daring and fierce look to which he was so accustomed.

"Harry," she said before he could go on, "No matter what happens tomorrow, you need to know I'll never love anyone the way I love you."

Harry smiled at her, "Ginny, you know I love you too." This was easy, he thought as his brain began to relax again.

She continued, "You saved my life. You saved my father and my brother. I want to repay the life debt I owe you." Ginny paused and took a breath.

"Ginny, you don't owe me anything. You don't have to...to pay me back..." Harry felt as if the potion was still clouding his reason, but before he could sort out what she meant by it, she continued.

"You don't understand, Harry. Your line shouldn't die out. No matter what happens tomorrow, Harry, I love you...I'll always love you...so I've decided. I mean to have your son."

If nothing else could have done it, the last sentence jolted the remnants of Dumbledore's dreamless potion from him. Harry tried to raise himself up on one elbow, the better to see her face. "My...son?" he said.

"Tomorrow you might..." Ginny now had tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I can't say it," she cried and he pulled her against him, feeling her sobs. "No," she said, putting a hand against his shoulder, "I have to explain." Her wet eyes shone in the pale moonlight, still bathing the room.

"I can't stand a world where the Potter name has died out. I love you too much for that. Harry, you're a great wizard and your line shouldn't fail. I've given this a lot of thought and I want to do this...I need to do this. If Voldemort should take over," she explained, "I want to protect what hope I can."

Harry did not know what to say. He looked at her in shocked amazement. The full import of Ginny's statement was working its way through his brain. "You want to have my child? Ginny..." he began, but he was completely at a loss. His mouth opened several times to make an answer but could not. "If I'm gone, that means Voldemort's won. You'll have to go into hiding just to survive. If we did this...If you had our baby, you'd be hunted."

She looked back into his eyes, "I've decided that I'll go away, out of the country, somewhere Voldemort is not likely to look. I'll raise our son in secret. I'll find him teachers...whatever it takes." She paused a tear running down her cheek, "Harry, you are about to put your life at risk to fight Voldemort. You're doing it to save what we both believe is good and right. I can't fight him like that, but I can keep your name and line alive."

"I ...well...I can't let you do that," said Harry, not knowing what else to say. She was saying she loved him enough to give up her safety and her independence to raise his child. "What if I live?" he asked, although he was just playing for time.

Ginny looked at him and said very seriously, "If you live, Harry, I'd want us to be a family."

In the timeless silence that followed, her words washed over him. If he lived, she wanted to be with him. Well... he wanted her...there was no question about that. Yet how could he let her carry on with a fatherless child, if he died tomorrow?

Ginny seemed about ready to make another argument but at that instant, Harry remembered again the conversation he had had with Remus nearly a year ago and he knew what he wanted to do...knew without a doubt.

A family of his own. Sirius had told him in the will that he should have a family and the thought of it was overwhelming and overpowering. There was so little time. However, tonight, of all nights, why should that matter?

Harry got to his knees on the bed and pulled Ginny up to face him. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. "Ginny Weasley, I love you more than anyone in the world. You've made me feel that anything is possible. You've made me feel as though I'm not alone. I want to spend the rest of my life, however long it is, with you."

A red swirl of glittering mist began to envelope them, turning around the two of them in bright sparkling spirals. Harry looked at it in wonder. Ginny gave him a look of deep surprise, and then spoke slowly, staring into his eyes, "I love you more than anyone or anything that's to come, Harry Potter. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want the two of us to be together forever." The red mist changed to gold and whirled even faster, as though there were a secret wind surrounding them. As they watched it, the mist glowed briefly and brightly enough to light the room, then it vanished in a poof.

Harry had a strange unearthly feeling of the utmost joy, a feeling so foreign it was almost frightening. He laid Ginny back down and pulled the bedcovers over them. Then Harold James Potter and Ginevra Weasley Potter consummated their magical contract.

A tapping noise from the window caused Harry to wake suddenly and fully. The sky was still dark and the room in deep shadow. His face was buried in Ginny's hair, breathing in the light flowery scent that he associated with her. His chest was pressed against her back, his arm draped over her waist. He could feel her slow steady breathing in the darkness.

Tap, tap, tap.

That sound must have been what awakened him. It would be the owl from Lupin, he thought. Never was an owl less welcome. His sense of duty fought with his desire to stay exactly where he was.

Carefully, he pulled his leg away from hers and raised himself to look at her. The rumpled bed sheets were twisted low around her hips and her hair was fanned out across the pillows. He ached to wake her, his hand suspended momentarily, over her cheek. Couldn't they could simply stay here, and ignore the rest of the world forever and ever.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, to climb silently from the bed, and to pull the blankets up over her bare shoulders, then turn away. But then, what good was this happiness if he didn't rise up and defend her?

The owl pecked insistently again on the glass, and Harry tried to shush it, as he crossed to the window and pushed it open to admit the bird. It stuck out its leg and Harry relieved it of its note. Immediately it flew back out through the still open window, which Harry closed behind it.

He unrolled the note and peered at it in the darkness. "Damn it!" he hissed in a whisper. He steadied his breathing. One thing at a time, he told himself, admonishing himself to calm and focused. He began to dress quickly.

Harry noted that he felt very clear-headed; as though he knew each thing he must do now. It was as though his brain were some sort of computer, ticking off each task. Shoes... wand... invisibility cloak. He stuffed the letter into his pocket. When he was ready, he took a bottle of ink and a piece of parchment from the table and penned a brief note. He placed the note on the bedside cabinet next to Ginny, and then pocketed her wand, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Harry left the room, closing the door quietly. The lock clicked, but Ginny did not hear it.

~

She woke slowly, stretching her arms. It took a moment to recall where she was, then she realized that Harry's warm body was no longer touching hers. She sat up and looked about the room, wildly. He had gone! He had gone, and not wakened her! In panic, stomach churning, she threw herself from the bed, ran to the window. A light blue-grey sky showed that it was morning. Ginny climbed up to kneel on the window ledge. Frost covered everything. Her skin strung from the icy glass as she flattened herself against it trying to see him... to see anyone out on the grounds.

Out beyond the dark tree line, Harry would be facing Voldemort. Out beyond the tree line, it would be all over soon. She could see nothing. She got down off the ledge, skinning her knee, and rushed to the door, grabbing up her nightdress as she passed. The door was locked.

Ginny cursed and turned frantically toward the bedside cabinet to get her wand. It was gone. In its stead, there was a slip of parchment standing against the water jug, with her name written hastily across the front. She approached it in apprehension, holding the balled up nightdress against her chest. With nervous fingers, she unfolded the note and read:

Ginny,

I love you, and I will forever. In case I die today, I leave you all my gold and property. I know this isn't a proper will, but I hope it will serve the purpose. If by chance I've left you with more than gold, tell him I love him too.

I'm sorry, but I can't let you out. Not until it is over. If I'm worried about your safety, I won't do my best against him.

Harry

PS. Ron can have my Firebolt.

Ginny clutched the parchment to her chest and sank to the floor sobbing.

~

The Story in Your Eyes

By: The Moody Blues

I've been thinking about our fortune

And I've decided that we're really not to blame

For the love that's deep inside us now

Is still the same.

And the sound we make together

Is the music to the story in your eyes

It's been shining down upon me now

I realize.

Listen to the tide slowly turning,

Wash all our heartaches away.

We're part of the fire that is burning

And from the ashes we can build for another day

But I'm frightened for your children

And the life that we are living is in vain

And the sunshine we've been waiting for

Will turn to rain.

When the final line is over

And it's certain that the curtain's gonna fall

I can hide inside your sweet innocent love

For evermore

~