Eclipse: Interlude

Eclipse: Interlude

I've lost him, and this time, I cannot say with any assurance that I will succeed in saving him. I had worried that the greatest threat to Harry was his own impertinence and rebelliousness - not that those traits are unwarranted, oh no. Harry's shortcomings in this case are no fault of his own, but instead are the product of my own foolishness. I had underestimated his spirit and determination, and to ignore him had ignited a fire that could not be quenched until he finds his retribution. Still, with an understanding of the situation, I had hoped he would be able to accept what protection I could offer until the proper time came for him to face Voldemort alone.

But I digress, as old men often do. It was not Harry's fault, not entirely. He did not run off impulsively; he did not even leave of his own accord. With all the things outside of these walls from which I intended to keep Harry safe, I'd never considered the threats within. I never expected one of my own students to go so far.

Should I have seen the threat in Draco Malfoy? Doubtlessly. You see, as much as I underestimated Harry, I also underestimated young Mr. Malfoy. I once discussed this with Severus. His thoughts on the matter were unclear. He warned me not to underestimate Draco's capability as a menace, but told me he had hope that under the right circumstances Draco might be scared and impressionable enough to be turned. He was surely a Malfoy, convinced of the superiority of pure wizard blood and the importance of power, but Severus was certain that Draco did not have the composition and character of a Death Eater. Draco was unaccustomed to pressure, and just a bit too scared. Severus suspected that when the time came, the boy would crack under the pressure. So many other young witches and wizards like Draco had attempted to serve Voldemort, confident in their hatred, anger, and prejudices, only to die of a case of cold feet. The only thing in question was whether Draco's hatred was stronger than his fear. I should have realized the threat after Lucius was imprisoned.

My simple, foolish mistake may have cost us everything.

The morning of Harry's disappearance was most terrible.

I had been sitting in this very seat at the head of the Great Hall. I'd awoken with a most uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that morning, but having indulged in a few too many lemon sherbets before bed the previous night, I had dismissed it. Then I saw Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley enter the hall, noticeably devoid of their usual companion. Both of them looked rather flustered, and after scanning the hall for a moment, Hermione grabbed Ronald by the sleeve and practically bowled over several students in her rush to the High Table. I daresay that she would have run into me had the table not stopped her.

"Headmaster," Miss Granger said breathlessly, wringing her hands as she spoke, "I don't mean to make a fuss out of what could be nothing, because Harry does tend to take off on his own a lot lately, but last night, he went looking for his Potions assignment, because he thought he might have dropped it, you see, but this morning -"

"Hermione, shut up!" Ronald yanked his arm free of her grasp. "Sir, Harry's missing. We've looked everywhere."

I stood and looked down at them, unsure of what to say. "Odd feelings" are not the sort of thing that children need to hear when they're already frantic with worry. Not that they're normal children, by any standards.

I was just about to ask them to follow me to my office when the door to the Great Hall flew open with a crash. Severus had burst into the hall, looking as worried as is possible for him. He strode to the High Table, and slapped down a slightly rumpled piece of folded parchment.

"Headmaster, Draco Malfoy is missing, and I believe it has something to do with this."

Miss Granger must have recognized the parchment, for she gasped, turned pale, and sagged back against Mr. Weasley, who looked just as likely to fall over as she did. When I recognized the parchment for myself, I must admit, I nearly felt the same way.

Hoping to temporarily delay the inevitable panic that would soon spread through the school, I led them all to my office.

"Miss Granger," I asked, as I unfolded the parchment and placed it on my desk, "Do you recognize this?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, still very pale. "It's Harry's. It's a map of Hogwarts... he would never have just left it like that... something must have happened... he... he..." She swallowed once, trying to regain some composure, but it did not appear to help. "Harry's potions homework was missing from his bag last night. He'd worked all week on it, he spent hours, and he never would have been able to redo it in one night by himself, and he asked me to help him redo it, but I told him he had to be responsible for himself." She was on the verge of tears at that point. "I think he went looking for it in the middle of the night, and he must have taken the map with him. I never should have let him go! He knows better than to go wandering at night! I should have helped him! I should have -"

"Shut up, you hysterical girl!" Severus snarled at her.

At that, Mr. Weasley jumped between Severus and Miss Granger. "Don't you talk to her that way! If Malfoy has something to do with Harry going missing, then you're to blame too, because he's in your bloody house!"

I might have interrupted there, but underneath Severus's scowl, I could see the look of defeat; he knew Ronald was correct.

"Weasley," he hissed, "if you do not back down, I'll have half of Gryffindor's points for your outburst! And if you'll be even half as mature as you should be, and listen before your mouth earns you a month of detentions, I'll have you know..." He sighed deeply at that point, although it sounded much like a growl. "... that you are correct. This is partially my fault."

Had the situation been less serious, I might have smiled at the stunned look on Ronald's face. Severus merely nodded at him, the resignation showing more clearly then.

"We have a far larger problem on our hands than Potter's homework, although his homework is often enough of a problem by itself."

Ronald's face quickly regained a scowl.

Severus turned back towards me, and I could see the guilt hidden in his eyes. I nodded at him to go on.

"Headmaster, just last week, I overheard a rumour that Draco was planning some sort of revenge on Potter for Lucius's capture at the Ministry last spring. It was suggested that he planned to lure Potter from the school, but that threat was buried in a list of relatively normal teenage pranks and vengeance." At that, Severus's eyes became downcast, and I knew for certain how bad the situation really was. "I spoke to him and told him not to do anything rash. He usually knows how to take hints such as that, and I assumed it would be enough to prevent anything but normal childish pranks. In light of the current situation, however..."

Severus reached over to my desk and smoothed the parchment in plain view. He extended his wand over it and whispered a soft revealing spell. Immediately, a dark bloodstain appeared on the parchment.

"I regret to say this, Headmaster, but I think we must assume the worst."

Miss Granger cried out and buried her face against Mr. Weasley's chest, sobbing hysterically. Ronald appeared as stunned as I felt. I honestly did not know what to tell them.

"There is little comfort I can offer," I said slowly, "but I am quite sure that Harry is still alive."

"How can you know that, sir!?" Miss Granger cried, her face still half-hidden in Ronald's robes.

Unless I missed my guess, I believed that Voldemort would not make it as simple as a clean death. The fiasco at the Ministry was unplanned, and I believed that, given the time and opportunity to plan, he would not have even attempted to kill Harry in such an expedient manner. He still did not know the full extent of the prophecy, as far as I was aware. He'd risked too much to simply kill Harry, and was far too furious with the boy to let him off so easily. As educated as Voldemort was in the Dark Arts, he would know that when any type of blood magic bonds two individuals, such as the spell he used to resurrect his body, their life-forces and magic are tied together. He did not, perhaps, know the extent of his bond to Harry, or the particulars of that bond, which might yet be his weakness. However, since last spring, he'd had the time and opportunity. He would seek a far more useful death for Harry than mere murder.

"Because, Miss Granger, I believe that he seeks to use Harry for his further gain."

She whimpered and turned to cry softly against Ronald again, but there was nothing more I could have said to comfort her, and I will no longer offer false comfort. She, like the others, has earned my honesty.

"We must start a search at once, Headmaster," Severus said solemnly. "Notify the Order."

"Yes, yes of course." I spoke absently, for even as the automatic responses to the crisis began to run off in my head like a laundry list, another thought had occurred to me. I couldn't say it in front of Hermione and Ronald. I wouldn't even say it to Severus, but I was sure he suspected the same thing.

Our chances of finding Harry for ourselves were very slim. He could be anywhere, and would most certainly be hidden by layer upon layer of wards, shields, and concealing charms. No, Harry had only two real possibilities of survival. He would either have to escape on his own, or he would have to find help from inside.

I ran through all of the emergency protocols that morning in a fog. Notify the Order. Notify the Ministry. Coordinate with Order members within the Ministry. Coordinate with the Aurors. Reassure the students. Begin searching using every charm and tracking spell possible. Through it all, one thought pushed all others aside.

If Harry Potter was to live, his only hope was Draco Malfoy.

*********

Albus Dumbledore sat at the High Table, trying to keep himself from dropping his head into his hands as thoughts of the past week continued to spin through his mind. It wouldn't do for the children to see him despair. It had been just over a week since the disappearance of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The story had broken in the Daily Prophet within hours of the discovery. Speculation had run wild.

He Who Must Not Be Named himself has penetrated the defences of Hogwarts and kidnapped the Boy Who Lived! Harry Potter has gone to finish You-Know-Who once and for all. Harry got scared and ran away. Albus Dumbledore is hiding Harry from You-Know-Who, and it's all another farce. You-Know-Who hasn't really returned; Harry just went mad, and they're covering it up. Harry and Draco had a duel and obliterated each other. Harry and Draco were having a secret romance and ran off together.

Each rumour was worse than the last. And of course, and possibly worst of all, there was the raw truth of the matter. Draco Malfoy has abducted Harry Potter for Voldemort.

A week later, the shock hadn't faded at all.

Albus Dumbledore sighed and looked over the latest headline.

Ministry Officials Confirm Malfoy Link to Potter's Disappearance

It had taken them long enough to figure it out. Granted, neither he nor Severus had revealed the bloody parchment to the Ministry. As upset and disappointed as he was in Draco, he would not intentionally incriminate one of his own students. If Draco had committed a crime on school grounds, no matter how grievous, it was as much the responsibility of the headmaster and professors as the student. Instead of sharing the fury that many of the professors held for the Malfoy boy, Albus, like Severus, only felt a deep disappointment.

Severus had reported that behind closed doors, the sixth-year Slytherins were bragging about how Draco Malfoy had finally bested Potter. The Gryffindors claimed the exact same thing, only their accounts were coloured with accusations of underhanded tricks and Dark magic. According to Minerva, they were plotting ways to blow up the Slytherin dungeons in retribution. Not that she felt any personal inclination to stop them.

Albus looked up from his dessert plate to gaze over the slowly emptying hall. Most students had finished dinner, with only a few lingering over their pumpkin juice. The school had actually been very quiet for the past week; almost painfully quiet, save for a few fights between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Around the school, the gossip and the theories had been all but exhausted, and most students had settled into a pensive vigil.

His eyes settled on a bright red head of hair, just beside a bushy brown head. At the sight of Ronald and Hermione, Albus's shoulders slumped. He was sure they'd told the full truth to the few students clustered tightly around them. Ginevra Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and even Miss Lovegood from Ravenclaw. Beyond that small group, it seemed they'd barely spoken to anyone since the morning after Harry's disappearance. What would they say if they did? The rest of the world was missing an icon, a hero, a star Seeker, and a Boy Who Loved. These children were missing their dearest friend. Albus's heart went out to them more than to anyone else.

Eventually, Hermione stood, followed shortly by Ronald. They moved quietly towards the doors while the others held back long enough to be polite.

So adult, Albus mused to himself. They've grown up long before they should have had to. But the last thing they would want is pity. They want their friend back. As we all do.

The suspense was terrible, and every day that went by without news decreased the chances that they'd ever have Harry back alive. He wasn't dead yet, Albus was certain. He would have sensed... something. Some terrible fluctuation in the web of magic that pervaded the world. But there had been nothing. Just more silence. He didn't even know what Voldemort planned to do with Harry.

He was hoping that tonight, that would change.

Only two hours ago, Severus's mark had burned, calling him to an unexpected meeting.

Albus had told the members of the Order to be alert that night, but to take no action until called. If Severus required backup, he would call, and they could all be there in moments. Any premature activity on the part of an Order member could ruin Severus's chances. Albus glanced down at the plain one-stoned ring on his right hand. He was proud to say he'd taken the idea from Muggles, and he had created a "Beeper", as Tonks had called it. It would glow red the instant Severus required assistance.

In the meantime, all he could do was wait. He would retire to his rooms, make his nightly contacts with members of the Order, remind them to remain on high alert for the night, not that they needed the reminder, and then... wait.

Albus stood slowly, feeling the age in his legs and back. The passage of time on the human body was slowed by magic, but inevitably, time was stronger. It drove on unceasingly, crushing those who could not keep up, leaving them broken by the wayside.

He turned to exit through the rear door of the hall when he heard a commotion from behind him. Looking back, he saw students ducking to the sides of the aisles, calling out in surprise as what seemed to be a very short person ran between them. No, not a short person. A house-elf.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir! Mr. Dumbledore!" came the high-pitched squeak only a moment before the house-elf came fully into view. It was a female, but not dressed in the clean uniform of a Hogwarts' house-elf. This one was dressed in a dingy pillowcase: a choice of attire that was distinctly familiar. She skidded to a stop in front of the High Table, turned, and her eyes went wide when she saw Albus. "Professor Dumbledore, sir! Biddy is bringing news from Biddy's master. Biddy has very important news for you, sir!"

Every student left in the hall was moving slowly towards the High Table, and an undercurrent of curious muttering was growing thick in the room. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, who had already left the hall, had reappeared at the door. Albus stepped towards the house-elf, not wanting to get his hopes up too much.

"Yes," Albus said slowly. "Biddy, is it?"

The house-elf nodded emphatically.

"And who is your master, Biddy?"

"Well, sir, he is not still Biddy's master, because he had to give Biddy clothes so Biddy could come here, because Master's father would have forced Biddy to stay, but Biddy is a good house-elf, and Master promised to take Biddy back! Please don't think poorly of Biddy, sir!"

Albus finally noticed the one dirty sock, not worn, but clutched tightly in her little fist. He held up his hands, trying to waylay her nervous outburst. She was still out of breath from running. "Please, Biddy! I do not think ill of you! You are obviously serving your master well! But I need to know, who is he?"

"Biddy serves Master Draco Malfoy, sir."

Immediately, the murmurs in the hall escalated, but one sharp cry cut through them all. Albus looked up to see Miss Granger running towards the High Table as she had a week before, dragging Mr. Weasley behind her and nearly bowling over dozens of other students in the process. Before she had reached the top of the steps to the High Table, however, Albus held up one hand, indicating for her to stop. It was quite effective, as she stopped so fast that Ronald collided with her from behind.

"OOF! 'Ermione! Easy there!"

She shot a sharp look back at him before she turned back to Albus, then stared down sceptically at the house-elf. "You escaped from Malfoy?"

Biddy looked scandalized. "Oh no, Miss! Biddy is not escaping! Biddy is a good house-elf! Master Malfoy trusted Biddy to bring a message to Professor Dumbledore! Oh, Biddy's master is good and kind and he trusts Biddy!"

It was Hermione's turn to look scandalized, and somewhat nauseous. "Are we talking about the same Malfoy?"

"I think," Albus interjected, speaking slowly and deliberately, "that this would best be continued elsewhere." He looked around at the multitude of wide eyes staring from the entire Great Hall, and addressed them loudly. "I would advise everyone to return directly to their common rooms immediately. Prefects, you are responsible for enforcing this."

With a glance back down, he spoke in a confidential tone. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Biddy, please follow me to my office. Ah, and Sir Hector," he addressed a portly wizard in a painting of a holiday banquet, "would you please send up to Gryffindor Tower for Professor McGonagall? This concerns her as well."

Sir Hector nodded, took another bite from a turkey leg, wiped the back of his hand across his thick moustache, pulled himself from behind his unending feast with a muffled belch, and waddled out of the painting.

It was all Albus could do to restrain himself from questioning the house elf then and there as they made their way up the staircases to the headmaster's office. He glanced down out of the corner of his eye at the little house-elf, who was doing an ungainly half-run, half-walk beside him, looking up at him anxiously every few steps. Behind them, the only sounds made by Harry's friends were their footsteps. Albus had to admire their restraint. In the meantime, he couldn't help but wonder what type of news Biddy had brought. With some luck, there would be a location, some details, and between Biddy's information, Severus's presence, and the backup of the rest of the Order, a rescue mission could be mounted. Or, if Harry and Draco had escaped beyond the wards of their captivity, unlikely though that might be, they could perhaps be tracked and located. But there was no point in letting hope carry him away.

Minerva caught up with them just before they arrived at the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office.

"Albus! What is it? Is there news? I noticed that Severus wasn't at supper -"

Albus held up a hand and stopped her questions, inclining his head to indicate that they would discuss it in the office. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

The gargoyle leapt aside at the password ("sugar quill"), the stairs carried them up the familiar spiral, and the office door fell shut behind them with a heavy thud. Albus spun around to face the house-elf, who stood in the middle of the circular office. She looked terribly nervous, like she was on trial.

Before he could question Biddy, however, Hermione had charged forward and seized the creature, picking her up off the ground, bringing them practically nose to nose. "WHERE IS HE? Where's Harry?! I know you know! What did Malfoy do to him?!?"

Biddy squeaked in fright, eyes almost as wide as Ronald's.

"Hermione!" Ronald exclaimed in disbelief. "You... and the... what are you doing?!"

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at her friend, with a frantic expression still plastered on her face. Minerva didn't quite seem to know what to say. The most mature student in her house was positively raving.

"Miss Granger," Albus said softly. "If you'd kindly put down the house-elf, she might be able to give us some information."

The girl blinked once and seemed to come to her senses. Looking extremely embarrassed and just a bit shaky, she put Biddy down. For perhaps the first time ever, a house-elf ran in fear for its life from Hermione Granger, and hid behind Albus's robes.

"I... I... I'm sorry," Hermione said, her voice wavering. "I don't know what came over me."

"Bloody worried about Harry," Ronald said firmly, giving her shoulders a squeeze. He nodded towards Albus. "Sorry, sir."

"My mind seems to have drifted for a moment, Mr. Weasley, and I have completely forgotten why you might be apologizing." He reached behind his robes and ushered Biddy back into the open. "Now, if you please, Biddy, we've wasted enough time. What message do you have from your master? Where are Misters Potter and Malfoy?"

"Sir," she began hesitantly, "Master Draco and Harry Potter were in the Dark Lord's fortress. In the dungeons, sir. But they is escaped now, sir."

There was a sob of relief from Hermione, and a sharp intake of breath from both Ronald and Minerva. Albus didn't even spare them a glance.

"They were both in the dungeons? Were they both prisoners?"

Biddy nodded, then shook her head. "Master Malfoy was not a prisoner, sir. Master Malfoy was assigned to guard Harry Potter."

A warm smile spread across Albus's face.

"Sir," Hermione cried. "How can you be smiling about that?! That just proves Malfoy is one of them! He captured Harry!"

"Ah, Miss Granger, he was one of them!" Albus winked. "Had they not assigned Mr. Malfoy to guard Harry, I daresay Harry would still be in those dungeons."

"I... I..." Hermione stammered for a moment, then shut her mouth into a tight-lipped grimace.

"Wait a minute," Ronald started. "If you expect me to believe that Draco bloody Malfoy helped Harry to escape, you're out of your mind!"

"Mr. Weasley!" Minerva snapped. "Do not speak like that to the Headmaster!"

"No, no, Minerva, it's all right. I can't blame them for being upset. But Mr. Weasley," Albus's voice turned stern, "that's exactly what I expect you to believe."

"But Malfoy kidnapped Harry!" Ronald protested. "He hurt him! That was Harry's blood!"

"Yes, that is true, but Mr. Malfoy evidently also allowed Harry to escape, and from the sound of things, they left together. That would never have happened had Draco not changed loyalties."

Ronald's mouth hung open for a moment before his face warped into a harsh scowl. "I'd be more likely to believe that Harry broke out himself and dragged Malfoy along so that I can beat him to a bloody pulp when they get back."

Albus frowned his disapproval at Ronald, then turned back to Biddy. "You were there. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us?"

The house-elf hesitated for a moment before her face screwed up in determination. "Master Malfoy planned the escape, sir. Biddy is thinking that the Dark Lord did something to Master Malfoy that Master didn't like, sir. Master Malfoy asked Biddy to help. Biddy found the escape route, and the Mislocator -"

"Mislocator?" Albus interrupted sharply.

"Yes, sir." She looked worried again. "You see, sir, Biddy is not having only good news, sir. Biddy was trying to find the pyramids, sir, they is supposed to work like a Portkey, and Biddy was to take one of them here, and Master Malfoy and Harry Potter would use the other to come right to Hogwarts, sir... but sir, Biddy is not finding them! And now, Master Malfoy and Harry Potter is in the forest, and they have the Mislocator, so the Dark Lord can not find them, but Biddy cannot find them either! They is wanting to come home, sir, but it is so far! Biddy's poor master is alone without Biddy to help him!"

And she broke down into sobs, blowing her nose loudly on her pillowcase, the only sound in the room.

The silence was finally broken by Hermione. "What does this mean, sir?"

Albus responded absently. "The Mislocator... it must be how Mr. Malfoy escaped through the wards with Harry... how clever... but with it, I'm afraid, there is no possible way for us to track the boys. Biddy, where is Voldemort's stronghold?"

Biddy cringed at the name, but otherwise didn't react. "Sir, it is north of here, sir. Biddy is not knowing where exactly, but Master Malfoy knows, sir. They is coming the right way, sir, Biddy is sure."

Albus took a slow, bracing breath. "Well, I regret to admit, but there is little else I can do. If they have a Mislocator, it would indeed be their best defence against Voldemort. They would do well not to stop using it. If they did, Voldemort would be likely to find them before we could." He began pacing slowly, as his mind raced in contrast. "Not worth the risk, no. Definitely not. But that means our only way to find them would be to scour the forest."

He paused and turned on his heel, struggling not to display his own nerves to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. "If they are hiding so diligently, however, our own search would only be more likely to assist Voldemort in finding them. Voldemort is resourceful, and would track us in order to find the boys. We might find them first, but then again, we might not. "

A painfully hollow feeling settled into the pit of Albus's stomach. "It would seem," he said slowly, "that Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are on their own."

"Albus, are you sure there's nothing that can be done?" Minerva asked weakly. "Two boys, alone in the woods, and we have no idea how far they might be! If You-Know-Who doesn't recapture them, they could still perish out there!"

To the side, Hermione whimpered softly. "There has to be a way, sir. A spell, a charm, a tracking tool, something! We can't leave him out there! We have to bring Harry home! I'll go to the library immediately... I know there must be -"

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that there is nothing." Albus sighed deeply. "The reason the Mislocator is such an effective tool, and so tightly controlled by the Ministry, is because there is no way to overcome its effects. It shields the user like a bubble, hiding them from magical detection in much the same manner as an Invisibility Cloak hides a person from visual detection. It effectively erases them from the map, making it impossible to defeat. There are currently no more than ten in all of Britain. I would assume Draco got his from his father. As long as they have it, there is little that can be done. I'm afraid that we shall have to wait."

"But we can't!" Ronald cried out. "I'm not letting Harry just stay out in the woods with Malfoy, and Merlin only knows what sorts of other nasty things are out there!"

"And what would you do, Ronald?" Albus asked. Beneath his beard, his mouth was turned downwards in a tired frown. "Right now, it would seem that any rescue attempt we would make would only increase the danger to Harry. And Draco."

Ronald muttered something under his breath. Albus chose to ignore it. "I would think that perhaps you two should go back to your house. Hopefully, Professor Snape will return shortly with some helpful information. Minerva, if you would please escort -"

A high-pitched whine interrupted him, and only then did Albus realize that Biddy was padding her feet furiously, looking as though she might burst any moment.

"Is there something else, Biddy?"

She nodded furiously, and Albus gestured for her to speak.

"Sir, Master Malfoy gave Biddy one more very important message, sir, but Biddy does not know what it means. Master Malfoy is telling Biddy to tell Albus Dumbledore that the Dark Lord is using the Soul's Eclipse potion on Harry Potter, sir, and that the Dark Lord already has Harry Potter's blood."

Albus felt the blood drain from his face. "Great Merlin's beard," he whispered, an instant before he half-sat, half-fell into the closest chair.

"Albus...?" Minerva took a small step forward. "What does that mean?"

He looked from the face of long-time colleague to the faces of the children - no, the young adults - standing to her side. What should he tell them? What could he tell them? The truth? Albus bowed his head forward. If there was ever a time to be honest, this was it.

"I suppose," he began slowly, feeling the weight of each word, "that I had best start at the beginning."

Hermione shifted her stance uncomfortably. "Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to like this?"

"Possibly because you're a very perceptive young lady." Albus looked around and gestured to the remaining chairs. "Please do sit down, all of you. It would be preferable."

The chairs moved themselves into a small circle, all facing Albus, and everyone but Biddy sat down.

"Biddy, is that the extent of your message?" Albus asked. "Is there anything else that Draco asked you to tell us?"

"That is everything that Master Malfoy asked Biddy to tell, Mr. Dumbledore, sir." She twisted the fabric of her pillowcase. "But, if Mr. Dumbledore wishes, Biddy can try to answer more questions... if it will help bring Master Draco and Harry Potter home safely, sir."

Albus felt a small smile sneak up under his beard. "Biddy, you are indeed an excellent house-elf. Your Master would be very proud of you."

Biddy's ears perked up, and her eyes shone hopefully. Albus only wished he could fulfill her hopes.

"I shall ask you to return later. For now, if you go to the kitchens, the house-elves here will assist you in finding some clean attire and something hot to eat. You've done very well. Thank you."

"You is very welcome, Professor Dumbledore, sir!" She bowed so low that her nose almost touched the ground, and with a faint pop, she disappeared.

"I always wondered how house-elves can do that on school grounds," Hermione said vaguely.

"I'll explain it another time, Miss Granger," Albus said solemnly. He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and decided to face the discussion head on.

"How much did Harry tell you about the night Voldemort regained his body?"

"The night of the third task, sir?" Ronald asked. Albus nodded, and Ronald's mouth tightened. "He told us what happened, but we knew that the whole thing was... well... a bit upsetting, so we never asked questions. Why?"

"Well, I assume that you know that Voldemort used Harry's blood to recreate his body, yes?"

Ronald shuddered visibly and nodded. In the chair beside his, Hermione shrank back into the cushion just a bit.

"You see," Albus continued, his voice heavy with guilt, "I never explained the repercussions of that to Harry. At the time, I thought that Voldemort's use of Harry's blood could only help us. I believed that Voldemort would not realize the hazard to himself. As long as he was unaware of the problem, he would have no need to seek a solution.

"Whether or not he realizes it, he's found possibly the only way to overcome the obstacle he created for himself."

"Sir," Hermione asked warily, "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"I'm coming to that, Miss Granger. You see, in building a body from Harry's blood, Voldemort's life is therefore based on Harry's. In a sense, they share one life, in two bodies, but it is Harry's life that is the foundation for both of them." Albus nodded once in acknowledgement of the shocked look on Hermione's face, and the disgusted look on Ronald's.

Albus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and hid the motion by folding his hands beneath his chin. He did not wish to tell this part of the tale. "As much as I regret this admission, I must tell you that the result of this complication would not necessarily safeguard Harry. Harry could still die, but as a result of his death, Voldemort would also cease to exist in corporeal form. My primary intention was still to safeguard Harry, but in the event that I was to fail - as terrible as that would be - Voldemort would also cease to exist. Were his spirit to continue, that remnant of Voldemort would be easier to destroy."

"Wait a minute," Ronald cut in sharply, "you're saying that if You-Know-Who kills Harry, he dies too?"

"In essence, Mr. Weasley, yes."

"Then why is Harry in danger?" Hermione asked in a rush. "Why would You-Know - er... Vol - Voldemort want to kill him at all? Harry never wanted any of this. He shouldn't have to -"

"Then he never did tell you about the prophecy, did he?" Albus said sadly. It was not a question.

"Albus, are you sure you should tell the children?" Minerva asked. Hermione and Ronald startled as if they'd forgotten she was there, and just as quickly, their expressions turned dark.

"They are not children, Minerva. Not anymore. And I intend to tell them the full truth: all of it. They deserve to know." He turned back to Ronald and Hermione. "I had left it up to Harry to tell you what he wished about the prophecy. You were at the Ministry; I'm sure you know of its existence. I suspect, however, that Harry did not tell you what was contained within it."

Two heads shook side to side.

"Considering the situation, I had best tell you." Albus sat back in his chair, as though the distance between him and his audience would soften the blow somewhat. "The prophecy itself dictates that Harry, as identified by the circumstances of his parentage and time of birth, is the only person who might defeat Voldemort. When Voldemort learned of this prophecy, fifteen years ago, he attempted to kill Harry. We all know what happened then."

If Ronald or Hermione was reacting to this news, the reaction was hidden carefully behind mask-like expressions. Their restraint was impressive.

"There was another aspect of the prophecy. One particular line, which was phrased in a most peculiar manner. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' At first, I had assumed the most obvious meaning: either Harry or Voldemort must die. One must kill the other. It appeared to be that simple."

Hermione coughed once.

"You notice something, Miss Granger?"

She nodded.

"Please, explain it, for I would like to hear this from someone else."

Hermione shifted forward in her seat, leaning heavily on her knees. She stared at the floor as she spoke.

"The phrasing is wrong," she said slowly. "If neither can live while the other survives, that must mean that one of them must not be alive right now. I assume that the prophecy would have taken effect somehow the night V-Voldemort disappeared, when he tried to kill Harry the first time...?"

Albus nodded.

Hermione continued. "Since then, it's been one or the other. Harry had survived, and Voldemort wasn't really alive, was he? Then just like you said, when V-Voldemort used Harry's blood... he thought he came back, but he's still not really alive. He's still sharing a life with Harry. Harry... Harry is alive, but Voldemort isn't. Or Harry isn't quite alive, and Voldemort is... but that doesn't make sense! Harry is as alive as you or me!" She stomped one foot. "It's all wrong!"

"It would certainly appear that way." Albus stood and began pacing slowly. He'd spent many hours pacing the floors of his office, using the repetitive motion to help him think, but never had he suspected he would be pacing over such a severe turn of events.

"After Voldemort's return a year and a half ago, I realized a second possible interpretation of that line. Between the one life they have shared from that point in time, only one of them could keep it. I had assumed, based on the fact that he used Harry's blood, that Harry would necessarily be the survivor. Even if Voldemort were to kill him, he would in essence be cutting off his life source, and he would die. That had been my hope, so that even in the worst-case scenario, not all would be lost."

He stopped and leaned against his desk. "But I also knew there was another way... that it was possible for Voldemort to circumvent this loophole. It is possible, however unlikely, that Voldemort could actually absorb Harry's life force itself. It was so far-fetched that I dismissed the possibility. There are only two ways to do it, and both would require such specific circumstances -"

"Two ways, sir?" Ronald asked.

Albus merely shook his head in response, indicating that the question was not important. "Voldemort has not heard the prophecy in full. I did not think he would be aware of this complication. As far as I know, he may still be unaware of it, and his use of the Soul's Eclipse potion may be a coincidence. If it is a coincidence, it is the most deadly sort.

"The potion is an ancient piece of magic, long forgotten by most wizards, and it uses some of the simplest components of Old Magic - herbs, astronomy, and human emotion - to create an unbelievably powerful effect. It uses the blood of the victim, and on the night of a full lunar eclipse, the phasing of the moon triggers a transfer."

"It would transfer Harry's life to Voldemort," Hermione whispered.

Albus nodded sadly. "If he succeeds, he will become more powerful than he has ever been before. If that happens, I do not know that we could stop him."

"But Harry escaped! Voldemort can't -"

"I'm afraid he can, Miss Granger. As Biddy said, Voldemort has already taken Harry's blood. Harry could be on the other side of Britain, but as long as the eclipse is happening over his head and Voldemort's, there is nothing that will stop it."

"Is there any way to block this effect, Albus?" Minerva asked, her voice wavering. "A counter-curse?"

"If there is, I have never seen it. The Soul's Eclipse potion has not been used in centuries, since before Hogwarts was founded."

"Wait, you said that the eclipse has to happen over Harry! If we were to take him away somewhere the eclipse isn't happening, to Canada, or Australia, or Guatemala -"

"Goo-what-a-huh?" Ron said, sounding utterly confused. Hermione glared at him.

"That might work, Miss Granger, but there is no guarantee. And in order to attempt that, we would need to have Harry here."

Albus closed his eyes for a moment, searching himself for some positive thoughts to offer, but there were none. When he opened his eyes, he surveyed the occupants of the room. Minerva had taken out a handkerchief, possibly to dab at her eyes, but instead she was twisting it harshly, and her face was pale and drawn as it had been the previous spring when she had been hit by several Stunners at once. Hermione looked much the same. She was gripping the edge of her school robes so tightly that it was beginning to fray, and her face was pinched as though she were fighting not to cry. Ronald, however...

"AND THIS IS ALL MALFOY'S FAULT!" He jumped to his feet and began storming around the office furiously. "YOU LET DRACO BLOODY MALFOY KIDNAP HARRY FROM UNDER YOUR NOSE!" He paused just long enough to take a swipe at a stack of books on a small table. The books went flying, and Fawkes let out a cry and flew from the room. Albus closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a sharp bite of déjà vu.

"Mr. Weasley!" Minerva cried weakly. "Sit down this instant!"

"I WILL NOT SIT DOWN! HARRY WAS SAFE! HE WAS RIGHT HERE! AND NOW HE'S... he's..." Ronald's voice trailed off, and Albus could see in his eyes just how shallowly his anger was masking his distress.

"Ronald, I assure you, we are doing everything we possibly -"

"Yeah," he whispered hoarsely. "Just like you did everything you could to keep him safe in the first place."

With his jaw set, he turned on his heel, stalked to the door, and pulled it open.

"Ron, please!" Hermione cried after him. "Don't! Professor Dumbledore never meant for this to happen!"

Ronald looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes were icy. "You just try to say that when Harry's dead."

The door slammed, and he was gone.

Hermione spun around in her seat. "Professor! I should... I mean, Ron... I have to go -"

"By all means, Miss Granger," Albus said, inclining his head towards the door. "It would not do for him to be alone, and I'm certain you need him right now as well."

She replied with a tight-lipped nod, got up, and ran after Ronald without looking back.

When the door had fallen shut behind her, Albus finally walked back to his armchair and collapsed backwards into the cushions, trying desperately to choke back the panic that was threatening to take hold. Now more than ever, he needed all of his wits about him. He pulled off his spectacles with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. He felt the arm of the chair sag as Minerva leaned against it.

"Albus?"

"If I remember correctly, Professor Sinistra mentioned a total lunar eclipse on the 27th of this month. I believe that is approximately two weeks away." He looked up at her through his fingers. "I really don't know what to do this time, Minerva," he said softly. "I never considered... it was my own foolishness... and overconfidence... Voldemort may actually win."

"No! Albus, I will not sit here and watch you give up like this!" She gave him a little shove on the shoulder, which forced his hand away from his face.

"Who said anything about giving up?"

She looked confused. "But you just said -"

"I said I did not know what to do, Minerva. I have not given up hope."

"But we can't just leave Harry out there! We have no idea how far away he is!" She began twisting her handkerchief again. "What if he and the Malfoy boy don't make it back in time? We can't even try to help him if he's not here!"

"No, we can't," Albus said slowly, weighing his words. "But Harry is far more capable than we give him credit for. And apparently, seeing that Draco was able to sneak Harry out from under not only our noses, but also Voldemort's, he too is apparently far more clever than we realized."

Minerva stood swiftly, walked several steps across the office, and spun back around to face Albus. "You said yourself how powerful this potion is! What could two boys hope to do?"

"From his OWL scores, it would seem that Mr. Malfoy is quite skilled with potions -"

"We're NOT talking about children's potions lessons, Albus!"

"I never said we were," Albus said, suddenly feeling a strange sense of calm. "However, I did say that the potion itself was created using very simple components. Harry is a very powerful wizard, regardless of age, and in case you neglected to notice, Draco is also very capable and quite powerful, when he chooses to apply himself."

She folded her arms across her chest, trying to look stern, but more obviously trying to hold herself together. "I thought you said there was no counter-curse."

"No known counter-curse, Minerva. However, in almost all Old Magic, counter-curses and antidotes were often as simple as reversing one aspect of the spell or potion. Usually, it was the most powerful component."

Minerva's eyes widened marginally. "And I'm sure you're going to tell me the most powerful component of this potion."

Albus nodded. "Hate. Pure, unadulterated hatred is what pulls the life from the victim to the victor."

Her arms loosened their grip around her torso. Her voice was weak as she asked, "So the key to the counter-curse would be...?"

"Love, Minerva." He put his spectacles back on, only to peer over the rims. "Love."

*********