Pieces of a Soul

Chapter 11: Worth the Cost

"Harry!" Ginny cried as she heard his shout of pain. Without looking at the others, she pushed her way to the edge of the trapdoor and jumped right in, landing with a dull thud and twisting her ankle slightly.

As she righted herself, she caught sight of Harry in the far corner of the crawlspace just in time to see the dark red spurts of blood from his slashed wrist splatter the walls in front of him. Limping slightly but not even noticing the pain, she ran towards him, but before she could reach him, he fell, unconscious, with the cup grasped firmly in his hand.

"I need some help down here!" Ginny cried toward the trapdoor before grabbing Harry's wrist and putting her hand directly over the gash, trying to stop the bleeding. She didn't know much about the specifics of human anatomy, but she knew that there was some sort of large blood vessel there and that if Harry continued bleeding in that manner he would die.

"C'mon, Harry, stay with me," she murmured as she heard the others dropping one by one into the crawlspace. His arm was covered in bleeding gashes, but what really terrified her was the fact that his skin had gone eerily cold.

"Hurry!" she called as she saw two wand-tips light up a few feet away.

Lupin reached them first, and his face contorted in horror and fear when he saw Harry's condition. Saying a quick incantation, Lupin waved his wand over Harry's arm and the deepest gashes mended magically.

"That's the best I can do for right now," he said, his words tumbling over one another in his haste. "We've got to get him out of here and to Hogwarts. We don't have long to lose."

Ginny went pale at the implication of those words, and she heard Ron gasp behind Lupin.

"Ginny, take the cup from him and hide it under your cloak," Lupin ordered. "We don't need anyone to see that who shouldn't."

When Ginny tried to take the cup, however, she found it to be quite impossible. Though she had thought that when people when unconscious, they relaxed all of their muscles, Harry's hand was still clutched so firmly around the cup that she was afraid she would have had to break his fingers to get it free.

"I can't," she said a moment later.

"It doesn't matter," Lupin said, taking off his own cloak and wrapping Harry in it, including the hand that grasped Hufflepuff's cup. He knew Madam Pomfrey, who probably had more of an idea what they were up to than she let on, would be discreet about anything she saw with regards to Harry. "I'm going to Apparate straight to the Hogwarts gates with him," he continued, gathering Harry's limp form into his arms. "You lot follow me there."

They all waited for the familiar popping noise, but it never came. Rather, Lupin just continued to stand there holding Harry and looking a little bit foolish.

"Anti-Apparation," Hermione whispered, startling Ginny, who had not noticed that Hermione was in the crawlspace too.

"Right," Lupin said worriedly. "Okay, everyone, follow Narcissa out of here. As soon as we're off the property - "

"We know," Ron interrupted, terrified for his best friend, "let's go."

After climbing out of the trapdoor rather awkwardly, Lupin put Harry down and raised his wand to conjure a stretcher, knowing that he would be able to move faster if he was not carrying Harry's weight, and somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, a clock began to chime.

Lupin had no sooner conjured the stretcher into midair than no fewer than eight masked Death Eaters burst out from behind the tapestry at the far end of the room.

"Formation!" Lupin shouted as he saw two of the Death Eaters charging straight for Harry. Ron, Ginny and Hermione, their reflexes fast from the practices they had held at Grimmauld Place, immediately formed a triangle, surrounding Harry with their backs to him. Without a word of prior discussion, they shouted in unison, "Protego!"

They were barely in time, for the two masked figures had begun firing hexes fast and hard, and the three teenagers found it to be difficult to duel this way - for they couldn't move much lest they leave Harry unprotected. Their shields were strong, but so were their opponents.

"Stun them!" Hermione cried, and Ron and Ginny followed suit and began firing offensive spells at their attackers, being certain of only one thing: Harry could not defend himself, and he would be left to the mercies of the Death Eaters if they failed.

A glance at Lupin told them that he was going to be unable to help. Five additional Death Eaters had fanned out around the room, blocking all the exits, and were firing hexes into the mix as well, seemingly without a care about whom they hit, friend or foe.

Another masked figure had grabbed Narcissa around the waist. For a moment, it seemed as though she was simply going to allow herself to be captured - this had, in fact, been her contingency plan if they were somehow discovered - but suddenly, Narcissa began kicking and flailing her arms like one gone completely insane.

"You killed my son!" she screamed, twisting and ripping off the mask concealing, as they had all suspected, Lucius Malfoy. "You killed Draco!" Gone was the apathetic woman she had been since Draco's death, and gone was any pride she had left. She twisted in Lucius's arms once again, and with a well-aimed kick, broke free and raised her wand.

Lupin had just enough time to shoot a shimmering white signal from his wand before he was engaged directly by two of the five guards, who had perhaps surmised that the best defense was a good offense. Though he was desperately tired and halfway ill, Lupin conducted the duel as though it was a dance, easily sidestepping the curses and hexes sent his way and wielding his wand with incredible speed.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione were holding their own, though not one of them had gone without some kind of hit. Harry, thus far, had remained protected in the middle - and it was probably this fact that caused the three teenagers to fight with such ferocity.

Bellatrix laughed hatefully, and all three of them immediately recognized her voice. "Pwotecting wittle Potter while he takes a wittle nappy?" she crooned before her voice became vicious again. "Diffindo!"

The spell grazed Hermione's face, leaving a slight gash where it had penetrated her shield. Hermione barely seemed to notice it. "Stupefy!" she cried, turning her wand at the last minute on an unsuspecting Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been dueling with Ron. Rodolphus slumped to the ground, stunned, and Bellatrix laughed as she increased the speed of her duel.

From the middle of the room came a manic-sounding cry that stopped all ongoing duels in their tracks for the briefest of moments. "Sectumsempra!"

Even Bellatrix seemed momentarily stunned as Lucius Malfoy's clothes were rent and his chest burst open in wide gashes, his blood spilling onto the fine Persian carpet under him. His face quickly went as chalky white as Harry's, and it was the first time any of them had ever remember seeing real fear in his eyes. No one, however, made a single move to help him as he grasped desperately for the chain around his neck. The reason for this became apparent as, a moment later, he disappeared as the Portkey took him back to the stronghold.

At that very moment, the library door burst open and what seemed to Lupin to be the entirety of the Order of the Phoenix ran into the room and began firing jinxes as fast as they could. Minerva McGonagall, dressed in her tartan dressing gown, looked fiercer than they had ever seen her before. She headed straight for Harry and engaged Bellatrix Lestrange in a ferocious duel.

"Take Potter and go!" she ordered Ron, Ginny and Hermione as she whipped her wand about so quickly that it seemed a blur. Not without reason had she been placed in the leadership position of the Order.

"No!" Bellatrix shouted, seemingly against her own will. She dove madly towards them. "Cruc -" she began, her wand pointed at Ron.

"Oh, no you don't!" cried Tonks, rushing forward.

Bellatrix took one wild look around and realized what she had not dared to even consider before: they were surrounded; the battle was lost.

"Master, forgive me!" she screamed, but this time, there was no answer.

"They have Port-" Lupin called out, but it was too late. At some unspoken signal, all six of the remaining Death Eaters disappeared, leaving behind only Rodolphus Lestrange, who lay stunned on the floor.

Breathing heavily, the Order members in the room looked at one another, and Ginny and Ron realized at exactly the same time that most of their family had come as well.

"Mum!" Ginny called out when she saw Molly rushing towards them.

"Ginny!" Molly answered, reaching her daughter and taking her by the shoulders. "What in the name of Merlin were you thinking, coming to Malfoy Manor of all - " She stopped as soon as she saw Harry's huddled form on the ground, and she made a strangled sort of noise which caused Ginny to look back quickly. Harry did not look alive.

"We've got to get him out of here!" she cried. "Bill! Come help me!"

Bill, Lupin, Tonks and McGonagall rushed forward to see what the matter was while Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance bound the still-unconscious Rodolphus and prepared to take him into Ministry custody.

"Merlin's beard," Bill said softly before bending and picking Harry up.

"Is he - " Hermione asked fearfully.

"He's still breathing, but we've got to go," Bill said as he crossed the room in four long strides, the rest of them hurrying after him.

With Rodolphus Lestrange bound between them, his head lolling weirdly, Moody and Shacklebolt were the last to leave the room - the last, that is, save one.

Narcissa Malfoy looked over the wreck of a room that had once been one of the stateliest in the entire manor. She looked with no trace of sadness at the puddle of blood where her husband had fallen, and she looked with bitterness at the tapestry. It seemed as though she should have known that passageway was there, but a small voice in the back of her mind had specifically insisted that the tapestry was unimportant.

Shaking her head slightly, Narcissa followed the rest of them out of the house and off the grounds, Disapparating to the Hogwarts gates after one last glance at her former home. After all, she had nowhere else to go.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Lucius Malfoy was the first to arrive back at Voldemort's stronghold. The gashes caused by Narcissa's spell were soon mended by one of the resident Healers, but Malfoy was hardly relieved. He knew, whether the others achieved victory or not, that the Dark Lord would not be pleased by his lack of success in bringing his wife back into the fold. Even so, he could not help but fervently hope that the others would manage to bring Potter and the relic back, for in light of the good humor this was sure to produce from their Master, perhaps he would not be as inclined to punish Malfoy so severely.

In spite of his discomfort as the Healer magically sealed his wounds and gave him a blood replenishing potion, Malfoy smirked derisively. As much as he would have liked to hope that they would be successful, he was not confident in their ability to do so without his leadership. Bellatrix has always been too emotional, he reflected. She will allow Potter and his friends the opportunity to anger her beyond reason, and this will cloud her ability to complete this mission. Though he knew that he would suffer all the more at the Dark Lord's hands if they failed, he felt no small degree of satisfaction that Bellatrix would not be replacing him as Voldemort's closest follower.

He was not surprised when, a few moments later, six of his masked companions suddenly appeared in the room to which the Portkeys had been set. After they removed their masks, he asked, "Where is your husband, Bella?"

"He was captured," Bellatrix answered shrilly, her eyes darting around for any sign of their Master.

Lucius chuckled snidely, looking pointedly around the room. "So I see that Rodolphus was captured and that there is no sign of the Potter brat, the cup, or any of his little friends. My, my, Bellatrix. The Dark Lord will not be pleased." He chuckled again, feeling as though it was worth any amount of punishment to watch Bellatrix Lestrange's fall from grace.

That feeling of superiority rapidly diminished, however, when the door to the side room opened and Lord Voldemort himself, resplendent in rich robes of black, strode into the room, his eyes narrowed into snake-like slits. Lucius turned his head away for the briefest of moments lest the sparks of hatred and fear in his eyes betray him.

"So," Lord Voldemort hissed, breathing heavily through his slitted nostrils. "I see my Death Eaters have failed yet again. This is a disappointment."

"Master, for-" Bellatrix began desperately, throwing herself at his feet.

"Quiet, Bella," Voldemort hissed, not even looking down at her, but instead surveying the seven Death Eaters and the Healer present in the room. "You may go," he said softly, addressing the Healer. "I would suggest you be hasty about it."

"Where is your husband?" he inquired coolly, just as Lucius had done only minutes before.

"Captured, my Lord," Bellatrix said, trying to hide the abject fear in her voice. "He, like the idiot he is, allowed himself to be stunned by the female. I could not take the time to release him, or I would certainly have been - "

"That will do," Voldemort interrupted.

"Master, the Order of the Phoenix - " a young man in the corner of the room began.

"Yes, Montague, the Order," Voldemort repeated, sneering. "Relics and half-breeds, blood traitors and children...and yet, once again, you have been defeated." He looked at each of them in turn, contempt blazing in his red eyes. "The only question remains now is the disposition of the chalice I asked you to obtain."

No one answered; not one of them dared.

"Do you mean to tell me," Voldemort said slowly, fury unlike anything they had ever seen burning across his features, "that not only have you failed to capture Potter, but you have not even managed to obtain the object I requested, though you knew of its location and of the curses surrounding it?"

"My Lord, your orders were to allow Potter to handle the chalice before we were to touch it..." Bellatrix explained desperately. "When we began the fight - "

"Silence," Voldemort hissed dangerously, and none of them even dared breathe. For a few moments, the room stood in a state of suspended animation, Voldemort standing stock-still in the doorway, the others frozen in attitudes of servitude.

Finally, nervously, Montague - one of the youngest and newest members of Voldemort's elite circle, broke the silence. Had he known the consequences for his boldness as the others did, he would not have dared to speak. "Lord Voldemort," he began entreatingly, bravely saying the name that no others would have dared to speak under such circumstances.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort interrupted smoothly, sending a jet of green light towards the young Death Eater and watching impassively as he fell to the floor, his eyes wide open in eternal surprise.

The five remaining in the room did not react to the sudden death; all of them were seasoned enough that they had seen such an action before and were no longer surprised by it. On the contrary, all of them actually felt as though the young man had been lucky to die so unblemished. They all simply waited, motionless, for their punishments or for their deaths.

Voldemort raised his wand, but rather than pointing it at any one of his followers in particular, he swept it over the room in an unfamiliar gesture. "Estus Maximus," he intoned softly but powerfully.

Bellatrix, Lucius, Goyle, Nott and Dolohov screamed in unison as unbearable heat penetrated the room, burning their skins past the epidermis, causing large blisters to appear over the entirety of their bodies. Satisfied for the moment, Voldemort turned abruptly and swept majestically from the room.

"Keep them alive," he curtly ordered the Healer, who was waiting outside the room for his next orders. "But they shall have no relief until I require their services again."

Saying no more, he strode down the long stone corridor to his private quarters. The Death Eaters' failure to retrieve Hufflepuff's cup presented more of a problem than any of them knew. Next time, he thought decidedly, I will simply go myself. The dangers of exposure were nothing compared to Potter laying hold of another one of his treasured Horcruxes.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

The moment Bill appeared, the gates of Hogwarts opened magically. McGonagall, having Apparated right behind him, had seen that nothing would hinder his way.

"Hurry, Bill!" Ginny called desperately.

Bill needed no urging. Clutching Harry's lifeless body in his arms, he broke into a run, leaving the others far behind in his haste to get Harry into Madam Pomfrey's care before it was too late. The others followed, lagging only a bit, with Ron bringing up the rear, and it was a surprisingly short time before they had made it all the way to the Hospital wing. Bill deposited Harry on the bed under the matron's startled eyes, unwrapping Lupin's cloak.

"What's this?" he asked Ginny, indicating the cup.

"What we went after," Ginny replied, obviously not willing to answer in any more detail.

"Never mind that," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "This time, Potter will be easily healed," she commented seriously, waving her wand over his arm and causing all the gashes to mend magically. "Now, to wake him," she muttered, saying another incantation under her breath. Within moments, Harry opened his eyes and blinked up at the concerned faces hovering over his cot.

"Did we get it?" he asked weakly.

"You've got it in your hand, my love," Ginny said gently, her eyes locked in relief on his face as Lupin moved to the other side of the cot, limping slightly but otherwise seeming unharmed.

Before anyone else could comment, Molly's voice, sounding shrewish due to her acute relief that Harry was going to be all right, sounded. "And what, might I ask, was so important about this that all of you had to risk your lives to go to Malfoy Manor of all places, and - "

"Ron!" Hermione yelped as the youngest male Weasley sank slowly to the ground, his face the color of parchment.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she and Madam Pomfrey rushed to the end of the bed where he lay crumpled in a heap, his eyes closed.

He, like the others, had chosen thick black robes for their mission that night, and was perhaps because of this fact, or because everyone's attention had been focused so squarely on Harry, that no one had noticed that the front of them was completely soaked in blood.

Madam Pomfrey levitated him to the bed next to Harry's her face pinched with concern as she slit his robes down the front with her wand, revealing a deep gash littered with fragments of white bone and extending from just below his neck to the middle of his chest.

"Bill, go get your father," Molly whispered, not able to tear her eyes off of Ron's chest.

"Bludgeoning and splitting," Madam Pomfrey muttered, waving her wand over the injury. "Lost a lot of blood." She straightened up and looked at them. "All of you out," she said firmly, pointing towards an unassuming doorway in the back corner of the infirmary's main room. "Now."

No one dared to argue with her but Molly Weasley, who remained defiantly by Ron's side, holding his slack hand in hers. Madam Pomfrey did not protest her presence; she would have expected nothing less of the Weasley matriarch. She simply drew screens around Ron's bed as Bill left hurriedly to bring his father to Hogwarts and the others congregated in the small back room, leaving Harry anxiously peering at the screens between his bed and Ron's, oblivious of Lupin's comforting presence next to his bed as he wondered what would happen to his friend.

"How could we not have noticed that he was hurt?" Hermione whispered, wringing her hands, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"He was lagging behind," Ginny said sadly. "Only I didn't really notice because I was so worried about Harry."

"Your brother hid his injuries so that you could get Harry to Madam Pomfrey," McGonagall commented, blinking, the corners of her mouth tightening as she tried to keep check on her emotions.

No one seemed to know quite what to say to this, the truth of it hitting all of them hard. They stood in silence until Bill and Arthur whirled into the flames of a large grate on one side of the room, holding Arthur's hand and rushing him towards the door.

"Ron's in the hospital wing, Dad," he was explaining as they walked, Mr. Weasley's carpet slippers slapping the stone floor with each step.

"What's happened to him?" Arthur asked, panic lacing his voice. "Was it a Quidditch accident?"

"No, Dad," Bill said patiently. "He was in a duel."

"Oh, no," Mr. Weasley groaned. "I told him to steer clear of Malfoy, didn't I?"

"C'mon, Dad," Bill urged gently, deciding not to remind his father that Draco Malfoy was dead, or share his suspicions that it had been Bellatrix Lestrange who had injured Ron. "Mum's waiting for you."

Without sparing a glance at Ginny or the others, Arthur hurried after Bill and into the larger room. For the briefest of moments before the door closed, they could hear Mrs. Weasley's sobs.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"Tonks, take this back to Headquarters," Moody ordered, gingerly pulling the chain holding Rodolphus's Portkey from around his neck. "Find out where it goes. This could be the break we've been waiting for."

Tonks nodded, though more than anything else, she wanted to go to Harry, to see how he was doing - and she longed to spend some time with Remus as well. She couldn't help but notice that he had not been looking at all well. Knowing how important this was, however, she did not argue, but went to her own office, where the Floo was directly connected to Auror Headquarters at the Ministry of Magic.

"Are you ready?" Shacklebolt asked Moody seriously, indicating the tightly-bound figure of Rodolphus Lestrange, still Stunned, in the chair in front of them.

"Let's find out what this worthless pile of rags has to tell us," Moody growled. "Ennervate."

Rodolphus stirred, opening his eyes lazily, and then jerked with alarm when he saw the two stern faces of the Aurors staring down at him.

"What were you doing at Malfoy Manor?" Moody growled without preamble.

"Following orders," Rodolphus replied silkily, sneering at them.

"What were your orders?" Kingsley asked in his deepest, most serious voice.

"What do you think they were?" Rodolphus answered sarcastically. "I would think that much would be obvious even to two blood-traitors like yourselves."

"Then let's try another question," Moody said menacingly. "Where is Voldemort?"

"As if I would tell you even if I could," Rodolphus said simply.

"Your 'Master' doesn't trust you, does he?" Moody asked contemptuously. "Not that I blame him; it might be the single issue on which we agree. The whole lot of you - 'Death Eaters' as you call yourselves - are a worthless bunch of - "

"Moody," Shacklebolt broke in calmly. Ever since his forced imprisonment in his trunk, Mad-Eye Moody had been even more obsessed with stopping Dark Wizards than he had ever been, but Shacklebolt was concerned that his contempt for the man before him would cloud his judgment. "It is obvious that this man is not ready to tell us all that he knows. I would suggest we transport him to the Ministry where he can await trial."

"So you'd send me to Azkaban, would you?" Rodolphus spat. "No matter; my Master would have me out within - "

"I doubt Voldemort will be exceptionally pleased with you," Shacklebolt pointed out. "After all, Potter and the rest escaped safely."

Rodolphus paled, though he should not have been surprised; if the others had achieved victory, they surely would not have left him to be taken into Auror custody. "The cup?" he whispered before he could stop himself.

Moody and Shacklebolt were both surprised by the question; they had seen no cup, nor did they yet have any idea why Lupin, Potter and the others had gone to Malfoy Manor that night. They both hid their surprise, however, and Moody answered in an even lower growl than the one he had been using before. "Your comrades left with nothing," he said. "You, I believe, will be quite glad for our protection now."

Rodolphus grew paler as Shacklebolt bound him even more tightly and prepared to transport him to the Ministry.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

It was nearly two days until Madam Pomfrey announced, with the first hint of certainty she had shown since Ron's collapse, that he would make a full recovery. Molly and Arthur had not left his side even once in the intervening time, and Arthur had gradually come to realize exactly what had happened to their son. Indeed, the seriousness of Ron's condition seemed to have at least one positive effect: Arthur Weasley seemed to be coming back to his adult self more and more with each passing day.

"I'm so glad you're safe, son," he whispered to Ron's sleeping form after Madam Pomfrey had gone to get some rest after a hard couple of days. Ginny, who had been let into the hospital along with all of her brothers and sisters, squeezed her father's hand when she heard that, almost afraid to hope that her father was recovering along with her older brother.

"About bloody time you woke up, little brother!" George said cheerfully a few moments later as Ron opened his eyes.

Ron blinked. "Blimey, I'm hungry," he moaned as soon as he recovered his powers of speech.

The Weasleys, Harry and Lupin all laughed. Ron had been kept alive by nourishing potions for the past two days, and though his body had all the nutrients it required, he would, of course, feel hungry.

"Can he eat, Mum?" Ginny asked, ready to steal down to the kitchens and get her brother any goodies she could lay hands on.

"I don't know," Mrs. Weasley said pensively. "Madam Pomfrey didn't say - "

"There wasn't anything wrong with his stomach, was there?" Bill pointed out reasonably. "I mean to say, the injuries were all in his chest area, weren't they?"

"Yes, but..." Molly hedged, afraid to do anything that might set Ron back.

"Molly, let the boy eat," Arthur urged. "Surely a bit of soup wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Soup?" Ron groaned. "I could eat a hippogriff! How long have I been here, anyway?"

"Soup or nothing," Mrs. Weasley said decidedly, so glad to have Arthur taking an active role in their children's life again that she would not have argued with him unless she felt it actually placed Ron's life in danger. "Ginevra, go down to the kitchens and see if the house-elves could make up a nice pumpkin bisque or corn chowder, something soothing without even a hint of pepper. Rosemary would be nice if they - "

"Right, Mum," Ginny said cheerfully, kissing Harry on the cheek before she rushed off, not wanting to linger lest her mother change her mind.

"Ron's going to be okay, isn't he?" Harry whispered to Lupin. He had been discharged only a few hours after they had returned to Hogwarts, but he had spent most of his time either at Ron's bedside or hovering in the small side room, waiting for news.

Mrs. Weasley looked fondly at Harry, tears glistening in her eyes. "He's going to be just fine, Harry, dear," she whispered thankfully. "And so are you."

Harry looked at her, seeing in her careworn face the only mother he had ever known. His heart ached for her as remorse threatened to overcome him. Once again, he had led her children into danger, and once again, she had almost lost one of them because of him. "Mum," he whispered, not even realizing it as he said the word, "I'm sorry."

Even though Harry didn't realize how he had addressed her, it was not lost on Molly or on anyone else in the room. Hermione gasped quietly, putting her hand over her mouth, and Molly lost no time in crossing to him and enveloping him in a tender hug.

"Harry, dear," she said into his ear, "no one is to blame for what happened to Ron besides the person who cast the spell." She pulled away from him and held his chin gently in her hands and her voice was soft, placating, as she asked the next question. "Now, son, won't you tell me why you went to Malfoy Manor? What is so important about that cup?"

Ginny, returning to the room with a steaming bowl of orange-colored soup, looked sharply at her mother, hearing Hermione and Ron both draw in their breath at the question. It wasn't as though they hadn't realized it was coming, but it almost seemed as though their mother was using Harry's sudden vulnerability to try to get information out of him.

"I can't tell you," Harry whispered, though his voice broke and he looked away from her. It could not have been more obvious to everyone in the room that Harry wanted nothing more than to pour out his heart to the motherly witch, but to do so would be to put her in even more danger, and he just wasn't willing to do that.

Molly sighed and drew Harry back into the hug, not saying another word. Her irritation that the teens did not confide in her what they were up to had been superceded by a certain measure of acceptance and an overwhelming feeling of pity. She had had many talks with Remus Lupin over the past two days, and in the end, she had had no choice but to finally accept the choices made by her children.

"Harry?" a voice asked incredulously from the edge of the screens surrounding Ron's bed, startling all of them. Neville Longbottom strode into the room with more confidence than any of them had ever seen from him in the past and stuck out his hand to shake Harry's as soon as he reached them.

"Hi, Neville," Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione said in unison, and then giggled at Neville's look of bewilderment.

"Luna said that you were here," Neville said, looking only slightly nervous as he surveyed the crowd around Ron's bed. "She said that you'd had a duel with some Snorkelfangs or something like that. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe her."

"How did Luna know we were here?" Ginny whispered to Harry. Madam Pomfrey had done everything she could to keep their presence a secret, completely shielding Ron's bed and the area surrounding it with screens, and allowing them to stay in the small dormitory she had access to for any long-term patients.

"I don't know," Neville answered as though the question had been addressed to him. "Luna just knows things, you know?"

They all nodded, each of them being acquainted with Luna's unnerving habit of stating uncomfortable truths.

"Who else knows we're here?" Harry said resignedly.

"No one yet," Neville answered truthfully, his tone reminding them of the obvious fact that news of their presence would spread like wildfire, probably within minutes. "Harry, mate, where have you lot been?"

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

The next day, Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Lupin stood in the attic of Grimmauld Place, each of them reminded painfully of what it had taken to destroy the locket, and wondering what the cost would be to destroy this artifact. Ron, at Madam Pomfrey's insistence, was still at Hogwarts, though she had moved him into the back room and forbidden any students from getting anywhere near him. The rest of them had returned to Grimmauld Place soon after Neville's visit, not the least bit interested in answering questions from the dozens of students who were sure to come once the rumor got around that they were there.

"Should we say the incantation?" Harry asked uncertainly, looking at the cup in his hands. This time, he had insisted that they not waste time by trying to destroy it without having contact with it, and he had absolutely refused to allow any of the others to try. Still rent with guilt over Ron's close call, he was not about to put anyone else in danger.

"I suppose so," Hermione replied nervously. In her mind's eye, she could still see the charred and blackened cavity in Harry's chest that had been left by the locket, and she suspected that the destruction of this Horcrux would be just as nasty.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began to chant the incantation they had used before. After he had done so twice, however, it was clear that it was not going to be so simple.

Hermione looked carefully at the cup. "I think it was used in the binding of the Hogwarts Charter," she reminded them. "I wonder..." Her voice trailed off as she screwed up her face in thought.

"Can you feel it like you could the locket?" Ginny asked Harry curiously. She was starting to wonder if they had gone to all that trouble to retrieve an object that wasn't even a Horcrux after all. It was unthinkable.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking down at the golden chalice in his hands. It was such a simple cup, beautiful in its own way but unadorned except for some strange words carved into the lip of one side. Even Hermione had not been able to translate them, and she had decided that they were either in a language so ancient that it had been left to antiquity, or that the symbols did not form words at all, but meant something else entirely. "It hums," he said simply, not knowing how else to describe it.

"Do you believe that you can feel it because of your close connection with Voldemort?" Lupin asked curiously. It had been something he had been considering ever since they had destroyed the locket.

"I reckon so," Harry said uncomfortably. He did not like to be reminded that there was any connection for any reason between himself and his enemy.

"I wonder..." Hermione said again.

"What, Hermione?" Ginny asked a little impatiently. She was not quite as accustomed to Hermione's method of problem-solving as the rest of them were, and found it rather annoying to watch Hermione, deep in thought, not sharing with them whatever was going on inside her brilliant mind.

"I mean to say...if this was used in a Binding spell or ritual...I just wonder if there was some kind of blood magic involved."

Lupin looked at her sharply. "What kind of blood magic?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know exactly," Hermione said. "But would it have been possible to formulate a spell using the blood of the four founders, binding them together in the strongest way possible? And maybe, somehow, this cup..." She trailed off again.

Lupin's face clouded, but he did not reply.

"What would that have to do with the Horcrux, though?" Harry asked reasonably.

"Probably nothing," Lupin answered quickly - too quickly, Ginny thought.

"What's obvious right now," Hermione said briskly, "is that Dumbledore's incantation alone is not going to work even if Harry is holding the cup. What we have to figure out is what will work. The Founders would obviously have enchanted this object, making it hard to destroy."

"Can't we release the Horcrux without actually destroying it?" Ginny asked.

"No," Lupin answered. "Think of the others - the diary, the ring, the necklace. All of them were completely destroyed as the Horcrux was released."

"I'm going back to Hogwarts," Hermione said decidedly. "Harry, I'll need your cloak. I need the library."

Without another word, Hermione spun on her heel and left the room. She did not like what she was beginning to suspect, and she had the feeling that she was not alone. The look on Lupin's face as she left, had she been able to see it, would have confirmed that he, too, was beginning to fear the same thing.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Minerva McGonagall sighed tiredly as she began sifting through the day's mail. She had been so preoccupied with the Weasley boy's recovery and the information coming to her from the Auror Office in the Ministry of Magic that she had gotten rather behind on the day-to-day business of running a school the size of Hogwarts.

"Another pipe burst," she said wearily, reading a notice from Filch that, predictably, blamed the problem on Peeves and demanded that the poltergeist be expelled. Good luck with that, Argus, she thought wryly, knowing that they only way to get rid of Peeves would be to ensure that there were no teenagers in the school for at least one hundred years, since the poltergeist fed off of their oft-repressed senses of mischief. She signed the necessary requisition for the plumbing repair and moved onto the next notice, trying to get through her duties quickly so she could possibly catch a bit of sleep before the morning came.

A sharp whistle startled her and she stood so quickly that she almost stumbled over her chair. The wards, she thought, preparing to call the Order as she strode across the room to the instrument which would tell her what had happened. Before she called in the troops, however, she wanted to make certain that this was not another instance of a student trying to sneak off to Hogsmeade for butterbeer or sweets. That had happened twice during the term so far, but the punishment for the transgressions had been dealt so swiftly and so severely, and she had docked so many house points, that she was almost certain that no one would dare to try such a stunt again.

After silencing the piercing whistle, she studied the mechanism closely. Strangely, it no longer seemed as though there was any breach at all. "Strange," McGonagall murmured.

"Is the school quite safe, Minerva?" a soft voice asked from behind her.

"It seems to have been some kind of mistake in the wards," McGonagall said. "It's no longer showing any breach at all, and even if it had been a student out of bounds as it was the time before, I should be able to tell exactly where the breach occurred."

"A simple mistake?" the portrait of Dumbledore prodded gently. "Or is it quite possible that there is a hole in our wards?"

"You constructed them yourself, Albus," McGonagall replied. "Do you believe a mistake was made?"

"As I once told young Harry," Dumbledore said conversationally, "my mistakes were only greater because of the power I possessed. Though I am quite certain that the wards I constructed are sound, I am afraid I cannot guarantee that they are completely impenetrable. Now, please excuse me for a moment." The painted Dumbledore rose from his chintz armchair and strode out of his portrait while McGonagall stared in surprise. That she knew of, there were no other portraits of Dumbledore in any other locations - so where was he going?

Deciding that it would be best to err on the side of caution, McGonagall used her wand to contact the Order. A thorough search of the grounds was in order. Once she was certain that the contact had been made, she began to summon teachers from their beds.

Four hours later, no one had found any sign of a breach or anyone in the school who did not belong there. The portraits had been questioned, and though Sir Cadogan had valiantly offered to "slay the villainous trespasser," none of them had seen anything untoward. Forced to decide that the alarm had simply been a mistake, McGonagall returned to her office to find an anxious-looking portrait of Dumbledore waiting to consult with her.

"What is it, Albus?" she asked wearily, having already decided to go to bed and to catch up on her work in the morning. She was feeling her age, and she could never understand how Dumbledore had always seemed to have so much energy, even though he had been quite a bit older than she when he was Headmaster.

"I believe there may be an artifact left in the school that Lord Voldemort wants," he announced, looking unusually grave. "It appears my research was not entirely complete."

"An artifact?" McGonagall replied blankly. "Albus, there are no doubt many objects within the castle that Voldemort would be interested to lay hands on, objects of great power and which would be of tremendous service to him."

"Yes, an object that would indeed be very dear to him," Dumbledore mused, not looking at her.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" McGonagall asked irritably.

"Information is leaking from the castle," Dumbledore informed her.

"We found no one, nor any trace of any unusual activity, as we thoroughly searched the school," McGonagall reminded him. "You do not believe that one of our staff..." She did not complete the sentence and did not need to. They both knew she was referring to Severus Snape.

"I do not believe Severus would betray us," Dumbledore said simply, and without further ado, settled into his painted chintz chair. "And now, my dear lady, I must bid you good night. If I may make a small suggestion, you look as though you could use some rest yourself."

McGonagall grumpily ignored him, pointedly removing several biscuits from the tartan container that was always present on her desk and savoring them with a mug of steaming herbal tea laced heavily with sugar. After a few moments, she began again on her work, having decided not to go to bed until she had at least made some headway. She would not allow herself to realize that she was flaunting Dumbledore's portrait's advice, but if she had thought about it, she was so thoroughly irritated with him that she was actually doing that very thing.

The painted Dumbledore, however, snoozed on and seemed unaware of her defiance. If she had looked, however, she would have noticed a small smile playing on his lips.

"Quite right," the portrait of Phineas Nigellus commented smugly as McGonagall settled back into her work. She paid him no heed as she sorted through her mail, trying hard to stifle a yawn.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"You made a mistake which could have cost you dearly," Bellatrix sneered. "Or perhaps you would prefer to join my husband in Ministry custody? Perhaps you feel as though you could turn traitor again to save your worthless skin?"

"In and out for months without tripping the wards," Dolohov agreed, arching a thick black eyebrow at Wormtail, who was looking extremely nervous. Dolohov and Bellatrix were still covered in painful, festering boils, which did not add to their levels of patience.

"And yet tonight, you managed to do so..." Bellatrix let her voice trail off, the threat obvious.

"It was a mistake," Wormtail said, trying and failing to keep the pleading note out of his voice.

"The Dark Lord will not be pleased when we present him with this information, Wormtail," Bellatrix said maliciously, enjoying the thought that the sneaky, ugly rat of a man in front of her might soon be in as much pain as she was in.

"Your rat costume isn't as useful as you like to pretend, now is it?" Dolohov commented as he walked uncomfortably towards the main meeting room of the stronghold, where he was scheduled to present information to Lord Voldemort in the forenoon. He winced as the boils on his legs rubbed against the fabric of his robes as he walked and hoped that the Dark Lord would forgive him soon. "You thought the caved-in passage would ensure that you remained necessary, did you not? I suppose now that you have managed to trip the wards, the Dark Lord won't find you quite as indispensable."

Gulping loudly, Wormtail allowed himself to be led through the doors on the other side of which he saw the Master he had learned to fear, and then had learned to hate.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Lupin's shoulders heaved as he tried to keep the Wolfsbane potion in his stomach, using all of his willpower to do so. Sitting on a chair in his bedroom, he looked through the dirty panes of the window glass, avoiding the eyes of Tonks, who was watching him with great concern. They had originally planned to spend the day together, as Tonks had given her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes a rare break from their weekend workouts

"This isn't the first time this has happened," she pointed out bluntly, rubbing hi shoulders gently as he mastered himself. "What's causing it?"

It was a few moments before Lupin felt able to speak. Wiping moisture from his forehead, he answered shakily, "I'm not sure, but I'll see a Healer soon."

"Today," Tonks said firmly. "You're coming right back with me to Hogwarts and you're going to allow Madam Pomfrey to have a look."

"Not today," Lupin answered, looking at her with something that could only be described as pleading in his eyes. "I've got to speak to Harry; there's so much still to be done."

"How is he?" Tonks asked seriously. "Blaming himself for Ron's condition, I presume?"

"Less so since Ron started to recover," Lupin said, "but yes. He feels like it's his fault, though I think he's finally beginning to accept that he can't do this alone and that injuries are inevitable."

"When will Ron be coming back?"

"Tomorrow, if nothing changes," Lupin said. "Madam Pomfrey's had quite a time trying to keep the students out of the hospital wing."

"The whole school's buzzing," Tonks said matter-of-factly, trying to keep her face passive as Lupin struggled once again not to be sick. "Everyone knows that Harry and Ron and the rest of them have been there, and there are theories all over the place as to what happened and why they were injured. Talk of the fact that they hadn't come back to school had all but died down, but that's no longer the case. It worries me, Remus," she said frankly.

"Everything about this worries me," Remus said weakly, trying to smile at her but succeeding only in a grimace. "It's too much for a bunch of kids."

"A bunch of exceptional kids," Tonks pointed out.

"Of course they are," Lupin replied. "But they should be worrying about NEWTs and jobs and their futures. This just isn't right, Tonks."

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Of course it's not, my love," she said tenderly. "But don't lose faith or hope. They've held their own so far."

"But what about..." Lupin began, ready to pour out all his anxieties in a way he rarely did with the one person who was there for him above all others.

"Shhh..." Tonks interrupted him, putting a finger softly to his lips. "Let's lie down," she suggested. "Even if we can't go out and about, there's no reason not to enjoy the day together anyhow."

Realizing that what she suggested was probably the best idea he'd heard all day, Lupin allowed himself to be led to the small bed in his room at Grimmauld Place. After he lay down, Tonks snuggled up next to him and lay her head gently on his chest.

They were just about to drift off into a comfortable sleep when there was a tentative knock on the door. Lupin groaned softly; he really didn't want to do anything at the moment but to enjoy the rare time alone with Tonks. "Come in," he said.

The door open and Hermione came in, her face clouded with worry. "I think I know what Harry's going to have to do to destroy the cup," she announced.