The Veil of Memories

Chapter 18

The Long March

The early spring dawn had barely begun to touch the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest when Ron felt Harmon enter his tent very quietly and nudge him on his shoulder with the tip of a wand. Still groggy from his poor night's sleep, Ron began to moan softly but Harmon put a decisive finger to his lips. Wordlessly, he pointed to Neville. Ron slowly nudged his sleeping tent mate who let out an even larger moan. At this, both Ron and Harmon put their fingers to their lips. Neville surveyed them sleepily for a moment, then gave a groggy nod.

Harmon left the tent and Ron and Neville picked up their rucksacks. Ron dismissed the irrational thought that Harmon would somehow see the case of rings on the inside of his bag and know that he had gone back to the castle the night before to retrieve them.

Both of the boys left the tent without another word. The other students remained almost completely asleep as they passed the remaining tents. Before they had left the clearing completely, Ron stole a quick look back at the hospital tent. He hoped that Seamus would recover under Madam Pomfrey's care but he didn't expect any news: McGonagall had made it very clear to the group when it had met for the first time the night before that they were to have no communications with the outside world at anytime during their trip.

They left the area with the tents and continued to walk down toward the clearing where Hagrid's hut had once stood. Ron supposed the whole hut had been somehow magically bound to their former gameskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher for, now that he was gone - and where still none of them knew - all trace of the hut and the gardens he had once grown had vanished with him. In the place where it had once stood, as fitting a tribute as any to his memory, those that would join them in this impossible journey had now gathered: McGonagall stood at the head of the group, dressed strangely in a tan pair of Muggle hiking trousers and a matching jacket. Next to her was Nevins, in slightly cleaner but still worn looking robes. Beside him were the other students: Ernie Macmillan, Parvati Patil, and the Slytherin Keeper Hall. Ron briefly made eye contact with Hall who looked back at him warily: it was just enough for Ron to know that his distrust was mutual.

"Is everyone here?" asked McGonagall. "Where's Miss Lovegood?" she added.

"I thought she was with you," replied Neville.

McGonagall sighed heavily and her cheeks flushed slightly with impatience. "We haven't time for this," she declared. "I'm sorry, Mr. Longbottom, but we'll have to - "

There was a sudden noise just behind McGonagall. Ron looked up in time to see Luna falling from a tree to the ground. She almost managed to land on her feet (literally if not figuratively), but at the last minute fell sideways onto her hip. She quickly stood up again, apparently unharmed, but covered from head to toe in leaves and twigs. Clutched in her right hand was Shakespeare the cat, whose matted green fur looked even more ghastly in the light of day than it did inside Luna's magical trunk.

McGonagall let out a small shriek.

"Bloody Hell!" declared Ron. "Come back, Crookshanks. All is forgiven."

"Just because you don't have a one-eyed cat, Ronald, it doesn't mean you have to be jealous. I'm sorry, Professor." Luna turned to McGonagall. "He does so like to menace the Bowtruckles, you know. I usually don't let him out of my trunk, but I promise he'll behave for the rest of the trip."

McGonagall, who still had her hand on her heart, and her eyes fixed disbelievingly on the monstrosity in Luna's arms, recovered quickly enough to say:

"I'm sorry, Miss Lovegood, but that - that pet of yours will have to stay behind. And how did you get it out of the castle at any rate?"

"I didn't. He walked out of the rubble himself," replied Luna unblinkingly.

McGonagall and Luna stared at one another for a moment more as though they were trying to discover who would waver first. Ron didn't feel surprised when it turned out to be the Deputy Headmistress.

"As you say, Miss Lovegood, but he's not coming with us and that's final!"

Luna sighed. "Oh, I suppose not. Run along then, dear." She released Shakespeare into the air. He sprang forward and disappeared into space.

"Wh - whatever made him do that?" asked McGonagall, taking a shocked step backward. "No - nothing can Disapparate here!"

"Oh, Shakespeare doesn't Disapparate," said Luna matter-of-factly. "He folds space in around himself. Clever really. I wish I knew how it was done. Are you sure you don't want him to scout ahead for us?"

McGonagall's only reply this time was a bony finger in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Shrugging, Luna walked ahead, followed quickly by Harmon, McGonagall herself, then Parvati, Ernie, and Nevins. Hall followed after Nevins, shaking his head.

"McGonagall must be mad letting Loony Lovegood come along on a trip like this," he muttered.

Ron was feeling far from kindly toward Luna himself but something about Hall's remark pricked his anger. Before he'd realized what he was doing, he had felt for his wand and, without taking it out from behind the folds of his cloak, discretely stuck it into Hall's side.

"Better a loony than a spy," he murmured.

Hall stopped and swung around. Anger flashed in his eyes for a moment, but then he gave the Gryffindor a half-smile that Ron could not help but feel belonged on the lips of Draco Malfoy.

"You don't trust me, Weasel Face? You should. McGonagall does. Or isn't that good enough for you?"

Ron suddenly became aware that Nevins had stopped at the threshold of the forest and turned back around to face them. "Come along then, boys," he said. "Anything the matter?"

"Nothing, Professor," replied Hall quickly.

Ron waited until Nevins had turned back toward the forest before giving Hall a last nudge with his wand.

"She might be convinced," he hissed, "but I'm never going to trust a Slytherin. I would watch yourself, Hall, because you can be sure that I will be watching you."

Before Hall could reply Ron took his wand away and walked quickly after Nevins.

The long march had begun.

***

The specialist nun - what was her name - Sister Unction? No, Sister Umbridge, that was it - placed her hands serenely together as she stared at them from behind Snape's desk. The headmaster himself looked even paler than usual and his eyes had a strange, glazed over look to them. If Harry didn't know better, he would have sworn he'd been drugged. Harry's attention was forced back to Umbridge once again as she softly cleared her throat, something she seemed to have the habit of doing. Harry wanted to feel it was irksome, but, to his consternation, he found himself more afraid that annoyed of this Sister Umbridge. Although she had repeatedly insisted, in her saccharine voice, that Harry and Hermione had done nothing wrong, Harry couldn't help but think there was something decidedly sinister about the way she kept asking them the same things over and over again. For the umpteenth time, he looked quickly sideways to see that Hermione seemed, if anything, more unnerved than he was.

"There's no need to feel nervous, Mr. Potter," cooed Umbridge.

"I - I'm sorry, sister." Harry lowered his head instinctively. "It's just that - "

"I understand," replied Umbridge, with the tone of someone spreading marmite very slowly onto a sandwich, "you're not accustomed to being called into the headmaster's office. And why should you be? After all, you are both model students. While the unfortunate crimes that brought you both here to our school many years ago were undeniably heinous, your behavior since then has been exemplary. All of the sisters have nothing but good words to say about you. And as for your extra-curricular activities, well," Umbridge tried to smile but succeeded only in looking like a cobra preparing to swallow something a bit larger than itself, "it seems congratulations are in order for you, Mr. Potter, on the football pitch and you, Miss Granger, at netball."

Harry felt a sudden wave of inexplicable nausea but managed to nod and force a weak smile.

"No," said Umbridge, growing serious again. "In this case, our concern is for your own safety."

"But, excuse me, Sister," said Hermione. "Why would someone be after us?"

Umbridge shook her head slowly. "Your guess is as good as mine. We only managed to learn - before his escape - that the guard in question was connected with one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in Britain. They call themselves only the Gryffindors."

"The Gryffindors?" repeated Harry.

"You've not heard of them, have you, Mr. Potter?" said Umbridge, looking at him searchingly.

"Well...no."

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Nor would I have expected either of you to have." Umbridge smiled again, seeming inexplicably pleased with herself. "Suffice it to say that your talents had attracted them and that they had hoped to recruit you into their nefarious organization following your release. But I think they misunderstood how well we've succeeded in rescuing your souls from lives as hardened criminals. Isn't that right, Headmaster?"

"Perfectly right, Sister," said Snape hypnotically. "Absolutely correct, in fact."

"Well, that's good then." Umbridge got to her feet. "I see no need to keep you further from your studies. Sister Barnes will explain your absence to your teachers. That is - " she held her finger up in the air again, causing Harry and Hermione to pause halfway to their feet, " - so long as you are very sure that no one came to visit you last night?"

It was at least the fourth time Umbridge had asked them that question since they had entered the office and after each time, Harry had felt more certain that she was trying to catch them in a lie. But in all honesty, no one had visited him the night before. All he remembered was Sister Barnes spiriting him away to an empty bedroom in the Barringer Wing just before bed "for his own safety." He had felt a bit concerned and anxious for a time but then he had fallen asleep. He still didn't know where they had taken Hermione but he doubted that her experience had been any different.

"No, Sister," said Hermione very quickly. "Honestly we didn't."

"Splendid!" Umbridge declared. "Off you go, then!"

Harry and Hermione didn't need to be told twice to leave the office. They made their way down the short corridor to the Room of Quiet Repose where they expected Sister Barnes would be waiting to escort them back to class. Once inside, however, they found that it was empty. Hermione quickly shut the door behind them.

"What on earth was all that about?" wondered Harry as soon as they were out of earshot. "Who was that nun anyway and why did she - ow!"

Harry winced as Hermione moved toward him and stepped on his foot.

"Shut up," she hissed in a whisper. "They have cameras in here, don't you know?"

"No."

"Well, they do. That's why they're leaving us in here alone now. They want to see if we were telling them the truth."

"Well, we were - weren't we?"

"Yes, I think so, Harry. But don't you think it a bit odd that we suddenly - "

The outer door to the room opened and Sister Barnes entered, a severe frown on her face.

"Whatever are you two talking about?" she demanded crossly, her brow deeply furrowed. "This is no time for chit-chat!" she added before either of them could reply. "You've both obviously gotten yourself into a great deal of trouble. They don't call Sister Umbridge in for nothing!"

"Honestly, Sister!" Hermione protested. "That wasn't it at all! We didn't do anything - "

"You can save your excuses for later, Miss Granger," Barnes said sharply. "It's time you were in class - both of you - and quickly!"

His face burning with the injustice of it all, Harry reluctantly let Sister Barnes lead himself and Hermione out of the Room of Quiet Repose and quickly down the corridor. Considering her age, Harry thought that Sister Barnes walked surprisingly quickly. Both Harry and Hermione had to hurry to keep up with her.

"At least allow us to explain - " Harry began again.

"I don't want you to explain anything, Potter!" Sister Barnes snapped back sharply without even turning her head. "And don't expect me to excuse you from your lessons either!"

"But Sister Umbridge said - " Hermione tried to say.

"Not another word, Miss Granger!" Barnes did turn back this time, showing a hellish fury in her eyes. Harry exchanged a conspiratorial look of venom with Hermione behind her back but both of them knew that if they opened their mouths again, they would very quickly cross the line. And one did not want to cross the line at St. Brutus's.

Harry allowed his anger to boil inside. He tried to reassure himself that far from being grateful for the salvation of his soul, one day he would have revenge on this school and its insufferable nuns. He suddenly felt disappointed that this representative of the criminal gang hadn't come to contact them. Maybe joining them wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. What had all of the do-gooders of the world ever done for him, anyway? It would just be -

Harry's thoughts were abruptly cut off as Hermione tugged on his sleeve. He looked up to see that Sister Barnes, who was still walking in front of them, hadn't made the turn down to the corridor that led to the maths classroom. Sensing that she still meant to lead them, Harry and Hermione quickly corrected their course and followed her. Harry thought for a moment that she might be taking them to Hermione's class first, but it quickly dawned on him that they both had maths at the same time.

Where was Sister Barnes leading them then? Harry hadn't been down this corridor much in his time at St. Brutus's. They were usually forbidden from taking any detours. He was pretty certain, however, that it led only to a doorway that exited out of the back of the main school building. Beyond that doorway, there was only a narrow pavement which ringed the perimeter of the school next to the double-layered barbed-wire fences that protected the rest of England from the hooligans within. Yet Sister Barnes continued to lead them inexorably down this corridor, missing several turnings to other staircases on the way. At one point, they passed several younger students led in orderly fear by a nun, but now there was no one about. Harry and Hermione exchanged several more perplexed and progressively anxious glances. They both knew that Sister Barnes would not easily tolerate them speaking up again, but all the same.... Finally, it seemed Hermione could restrain herself no longer.

"I'm very sorry, Sister," she said, a bit timidly, "but I'm afraid you must have taken a wrong - "

It all happened very quickly. Sister Barnes stopped abruptly and swung around to face them. Unprepared, Harry and Hermione had to stop quickly themselves and almost cannoned into her. Caught off guard, they could do nothing while she reached out both of her hands toward them. It was only then that Harry noticed she had been carrying some sort of glass ball in each of her fists. Harry had no time to react to defend himself when a sharp red light shot out of the ball nearest him and struck him on the head. A horrible pain shot out from his skull and paralyzed his body. He felt his knees give way and fall under him. His glasses hit the ground and he tried to pick them up, but the pain seemed to cripple him. The last thing he noticed through blurred vision was Hermione crouching next to him, her hands clutched over the sides of her head in agony, and then everything slowly faded away.

***

Ginny stared up at Dumbledore who still held the letter from McGonagall in his hand. At times like these, she wished she could make herself taller. Much taller.

"Eight weeks?" she cried, as shrilly as she could.

"Give or take a week or two," said Dumbledore, far too off-handedly for Ginny's liking. "The Abercrombie Pass does tend to get a bit marshy this time of year and that can sometimes slow things down. Then again - "

"The world could come to an end tomorrow! What good is eight weeks going to do?"

"I rather think it won't, Ginny. It may be a very near thing, I admit, but I still believe that time is on our side. I told you: there are signs and I will be watching for them."

And that's all you're going to be doing, thought Ginny, but just about managed to restrain herself from saying it.

"But there must be another way!" she protested.

"If I've learned few things over the years, Ginny, one of them is that Professor Nevins is very rarely wrong about much, at least when it doesn't concern himself."

"But then how is it that Professor Lupin can Apparate?"

"The elf village protects us from the effect of the memory shield in this area. Presumably there are some residual magical effects from our extended time here that have protected Remus on his journeys."

"Then they'll protect you, too! You've been here just as long as he has! And I'm immune from the effects of the Memory Charms. We should go now; it's our only chance!"

"It is no chance at all," insisted Dumbledore in a tone that was soft but firm. "As I've already told you, Ginny, you are far too great a target for Voldemort and so am I. We'd scarcely make it out of this village before he found us and then what hope would any of us have? No," he added, in response to Ginny's frustrated silence. "Remus will continue to make his reports. I have every confidence that he will tell us how near Voldemort is to completion, where the weaknesses in his defenses are, and how best our group can strike when they arrive at the lake."

"And in the meantime, I'm going to be stuck here doing nothing, is that it?"

"I sincerely hope not. As the only present member of the Hogwarts faculty, I have a duty to make sure that while you are here, you can continue with your schooling. You have an opportunity to learn from your experience these few weeks in this village what few witches have the chance to understand in their lifetimes. I hope you will not waste it."

And with that, Dumbledore walked slowly away from the field and back to the village, slowly munching on an apple as he left.

Ginny watched him depart for a moment then angrily kicked a stone on the ground. Her only consoling thought was a determination to learn far more than Dumbledore had bargained for.

***

Harry felt a standard prison-issue paper cup being pushed to his lips. Cool water rushed down his throat for a moment but, unprepared, he gagged and began to cough.

"Steady! Steady on!" said a man's voice next to him.

He felt someone push his glasses back into his hand. He quickly put them on and looked up to see who had just given them to him.

"Sirius!" he exclaimed.

His godfather, never looking more mangy than he did now, smiled and nodded.

"You remember," he said. "I was afraid it wouldn't work. I've never tried it before and I really didn't want to spring it on you so suddenly like that but I didn't have much choice. They're going to be watching you even more closely now and we have little time to spare together."

Harry frowned. His head still pounded with pain, though the water made him feel a little better. As his mind cleared, certain things started to come back to him - things that seemed impossible. He hadn't remembered Sirius that morning - had he? He hadn't known anything about doing magic or anything about Hermione's jailbreak. He'd told Umbridge the truth when he'd said that he couldn't remember anyone coming to see him the night before. But now he did: he remembered Sirius coming to him and placing some sort of ball - a ball exactly like the one he had just used - next to his forehead. And then? Harry's head started to hurt again, but then another realization hit him.

"Hermione!"

"I'm right here, Harry."

Harry looked across to see Hermione sitting next to him. She looked very pale.

"Wh - what happened?" said Harry. "Where are we? What - " He winced again.

"Steady on." Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder again. "You're in the cleaning closet. And we haven't got much time. Another few minutes and you'll be missed in class and so will the real Sister Barnes."

"What did you do to her?" asked Hermione a little edgily.

"She's unconscious in the parallel closet down the other corridor. A conventional Memory Charm should do the trick but the longer I wait, the more mopping up I'll have to do - no pun intended. Relax, Hermione," he added grinning. "I don't eat people. I promise you."

"I - I'm sorry," said Hermione haltingly. "It's all still a little bit overwhelming."

"But what happened?" asked Harry again, insistently. "This morning - I remembered - I didn't - did you do that to us last night to prevent us from having to lie to Umbridge?"

Sirius shook his head and chuckled. "No, Harry, the chicken came before the egg. I tried to get you out of the school yesterday afternoon but I failed miserably." He sighed. "Umbridge found out about everything and placed another mass Memory Charm last night."

"She can do that?" asked Hermione.

"She's behind all this. Can't you tell?"

Hermione stared back at Sirius for a moment and Harry felt sure she was going to try to contradict him, but after a few minutes of silence, she slowly nodded her head.

"She's a witch, too, and not a very nice one."

"So you trapped our memories in those - things you shot at us just now?" said Harry.

"That's right, Harry. And now I've given them back to you."

"But only the ones we had before the last time they placed the charm?"

"I'm afraid so, Hermione. The first time took us all by surprise. Still, we've learned a lot since then and this is an improvement on giving you back your diary."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Hermione and knew that she, too, wondered who "we" referred to, but both of them sensed this was not the time to ask.

"And the others?" Hermione asked.

Sirius looked at her for a moment then let out a deep sigh. There was a horrible pause in the conversation, then Harry said:

"You didn't get to them in time, did you?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't, Harry. And I didn't get to Snape, either. I - I spent most of my time trying to get to the two of you before it was too late, and they didn't make it easy on me. I had almost reached Snape's chambers when they cast the charm. I could feel it; I knew. I was too late."

"Well, there must be something we can do!" said Hermione. She got to her feet and stumbled a bit in the enclosed space, but resisted Sirius's steadying hand and managed to remain upright.

"There's nothing we can do short of finding where they've stored all the memories," explained Sirius, "and, believe me, not a day goes past when I'm not looking. But we can't stop at that: I've got to keep training you."

"And the other Muggle-borns," added Hermione quickly. "We've got to introduce them back into the group!"

Sirius shook his head. "There isn't time."

Harry got to his feet as well. "You can't just abandon them!"

"I'm not abandoning them, Harry!" retorted Sirius, his face twisted in angry frustration. "But the best way we can help them is by getting the two of you out of here first. Now, please, we've got to get going."

But Harry wasn't going anywhere until this strange man provided him with a straight answer.

"Why, Sirius? Why us? Why didn't you go to save Lavender first, or - or Dean, or Colin or Justin or - "

"Because you're the ones who can stop him - Voldemort," Sirius winced as though pained to say the name. "The one who created this mad world. Especially you, Harry." Sirius paused and looked Harry in the eye. "In the world you come from, there's a prophecy: either you kill Voldemort or he kills you. Thousands have died," he added softly. "And that's nothing to the deaths there will be if you don't stop him this time and soon. So, you see, Lavender and Dean and Colin and Justin and anyone else don't stand much of a chance unless you get out of this school very soon."

There was another long pause. Harry continued to look at Sirius. He felt his heart start to race. What this man had just told him was the laughable fantasy of fairy tale but somehow in his gut he knew that it was true. What was more, as he'd told Hermione the day before, he'd decided to trust Sirius. And this didn't seem like a reasonable time to back away from that trust. Harry slumped back onto the box he had been sitting with a crunch and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to do anything but look up and see the expression on Hermione's face.

"But how?" she asked Sirius. "You just told us Umbridge found out about you trying to help us escape!"

"It's true, Hermione. I'm not going to be able to fool them into letting me sneak you out. We're going to have to do this our way, a wizard's way. In your removed memories, both of you possess magical abilities that are no match for the defenses of this prison. I'm going to teach those to you again. In the meantime, you must be very careful and so must I. We can't afford to have your memories erased again. Voldemort has unhatched a plot - a terrible plot. This school's only part of it. We have to - "

Sirius suddenly broke off, clutched his stomach, and let out a sharp breath. All the while his eyes bulged and his face creased up in what appeared to be intense pain.

Harry quickly got to his feet and raised his hand out to steady Sirius's arm. Hermione did the same to the other.

"Are you all right?" he demanded. "What just happened?"

Sirius didn't answer him for a moment. His face remained locked in pain, but then he slowly relaxed and stood upright again. The expression that remained on his face was one of fear and confusion, however, and seeing it from someone upon whom Harry had come to rely as having all the answers was not very reassuring.

"That's amazing!" said Sirius suddenly.

"What?" asked Harry and Hermione in unison.

"An incredible sensation that my insides were being yanked out from within me." Sirius suddenly let out a great yelping laugh. "I haven't felt so much of my body since - "

"Yes?" prompted Harry, looking even more concerned.

Sirius swung around suddenly to look at Harry and Hermione and this time his eyes were filled with alarm.

"This is not good," he declared. "This is not good at all. Someone's just interfered - but that's not possible - unless...." Sirius held up a finger. "Unless somehow they've found a way to expel me."

"I - I don't think we understand, Sirius," said Hermione tentatively, looking across to Harry for confirmation. "You mean expel you from this school? Who?"

"No, it's worse than that, I'm afraid; I think they may have found a way to expel me from this world."

"Sirius," said Harry. "When you say this world, we don't know what you're talking about."

Sirius suddenly turned to Harry and clasped his hands around his godson's shoulders. "And I'll tell you, Harry. I'll tell you everything - both of you. But I can't possibly tell you now. I've got to get Sister Barnes back - and you - before you're missed and while I still have the energy left."

"But you'll come back, won't you?" said Harry, sounding a little more desperate than he wanted to.

"Oh, yes, Harry," said Sirius, looking him closely in the eye. "I'll be back. That's a promise. Though I don't think mass will be the right time anymore. They'll be looking for it. We'll have to switch things up - a different lesson every week. I'm sure you'll be able to manage it, especially you, Hermione!"

Sirius got to his feet and tried to flash Hermione a confident smile.

"But what will happen if they do succeed in expelling you from this.... world?" she asked.

"Oh, I shouldn't think they'll be able to do it all that soon. What I felt was seemed more of a test than anything. Perhaps even a bit of luck. But still, we've got to make the most of the time we have together just in case it wasn't. Now, come on - up on your feet, both of you!"

Harry reluctantly stood up and Hermione did the same. He felt much better now but his mind was still full of questions. In his haste to get them back to their lesson, Sirius practically pushed them out of the door, however.

"Wait!" said Harry. "How will we know - "

But as he turned around to face Sirius, he found that his godfather had already disappeared.

***

"Caught in the act; I knew you couldn't be trusted! Hand it over now!"

It had been four weeks since they had left Hogwarts - four weeks of tiring, backbreaking climbing and hiking through the rugged wilderness of Highland Scotland and the thick, dark forests of the lowlands as they made their way south to the Lake District just inside the English border. They were guided only by Harmon's impeccable knowledge of the stars; McGonagall's wand, which was charmed to the precise location of Voldemort's hideout; and Nevins' understanding of the terrain. Often times, it would pour with rain; at others, the sun would bake them right off of the earth where they were standing. Ferocious winds would tear through their skin as though Voldemort had summoned the heavens to stop them and thick mountain fogs would sweep in as quickly as dry ice from a terrible Muggle film, making it almost impossible to see their path a few steps ahead.

"Couldn't we use thestrals or something?" Ron had asked Nevins as the professor had charmed out their campfire one night, the persistent aching of his ankles making him forget his fear of flying the creatures. "I wouldn't even mind going by Hippogriff. Anything's better than trudging across these mountains, day after day."

Nevins had smiled. "No, Ron. Any sort of magical creature is unlikely to make the rider immune from the memory fields."

"Unlikely, but not impossible?"

"I'm afraid we can't very well go testing every form of magical transport to see whether it will cause the rider to lose their memories. We know that walking is safe and so we'll have to stick to walking."

"What about Muggle transport? You said yourself you came up to Hogwarts part of the way by train!"

"And a foolhardy plan that was. No, Ron, Muggle transport is very unreliable. The trains and buses don't come when you stick your hand out. You could be waiting along the side of a road or track for hours or days before something comes along and then, as often as not, it will race right past you. Even if, with by some luck, you succeed in getting on, the Muggle guards will throw you off in the middle of nowhere just because you haven't got the right change! And remember, Ron, Muggles don't have magic. Their trains and buses run on all kinds of primitive contraptions, each as likely as the next to break down. Though I wonder that you don't already know considering your unfortunate experience with a Muggle car your second year."

Ron's eyes had narrowed. "How did you know about that? Did Harry tell you?"

Nevins had winked. "Let's put it this way: the poor Whomping Willow hasn't forgotten."

Ron could hardly say he had enjoyed their back-breaking journey but if there was one thing he was about happy about, it was the chance to get to know Professor Nevins. It had turned out that, along with his impressive knowledge of Defense skills, Nevins knew quite a lot of handy survival charms, without which all of them - including McGonagall and Harmon - would have been lost. All of this he'd put down to the results of Auror training. At the end of every day, especially as the journey wore on, most of their group had scarcely enough energy to finish a meal before falling into sleep inside their magical tents. Perhaps it was Hermione's influence, or simply because he missed her, but Ron had often stayed up, finding himself curious as to how Nevins always kept their campfire warm or managed to conjure so many delicious meals. They had also talked about other things: Nevins had told Ron much about his days as an Auror. At first, he'd needed some prompting, but after a while, the stories had flown more freely. In their lessons the year before, Nevins had always made it sound as though most of his time as an Auror had been spent in an office, directing the plans of others. Now it seemed that was only in his later years. He, too, had once had taken a more active role in fighting Dark Wizards and Ron suspected, underneath his self-deprecating humor and now customary professions of cowardice, that Nevins had been very good. In turn, Ron had shared with Nevins many of the details of his adventures with Harry and Hermione. He had even included one or two details he was sure that McGonagall wouldn't have wanted to know about. Although Ron insisted he had spent most of these experiences frightened out of his wits, Nevins seemed to take them as signs of a brave and plucky approach to danger and, by extension, life. Ron never felt quite comfortable when he sensed Nevins taking the conversation in this direction; nonetheless he was glad for their nighttime talks and found himself looking forward to them each day of their long journey. There was something very lonely about trying to save the world and he found it important to remember, especially in the absence of his friends, that he was not alone. There were nights when, in the midst of their conversations, before McGonagall came out of her tent in her tartan slippers to finally shoo them to bed, that Ron almost felt carried away from the heavy burden that had been placed on them, a burden that, in the harsh reality of daylight, sometimes felt overwhelming.

There was another reason Ron felt grateful about his conversations with Nevins: the lateness of the talks, combined with the sheer fatigue of the long hikes, day after day, meant that Ron had little difficulty falling straight into a very deep sleep. If the shadows of destiny weren't enough to keep him awake, there was the ever-present threat of danger from the forests around them. More than once, in the early days of their journey, Ron had stayed half-awake at night, half-nightmares, half-daydreams of giant spiders amplifying the eerie sounds of the creatures in the dark forests. If the fear of magical creatures, both phantom and real, weren't enough to keep Ron's nerves on edge, McGonagall, Harmon, and Nevins made very certain none of them ever forgot the danger that faced them should the Death Eaters ever discover their plans. Any communication with the outside world was, of course, strictly forbidden; they had to keep their campfires low and find shaded clearings so as not to attract attention; one of the teachers cast an Eradication Charm after they left each place to remove all traces of their presence; in general, they had to keep magic to a minimum for fear that the Death Eaters might be able to trace them; any unusual sound was examined cautiously in case they were being followed or ambushed. These cautionary measures, along the circuitous routes they sometimes needed to take, had also made their journey longer and slower.

Before they had left Hogwarts, they had placed word with the other teachers and students that they were headed on a mission to London to warn the Ministry about the Memory Charms. Yet one month into their trip, few imagined that the story was still believed. With no contact from the outside world, they had no way of knowing what was known about their journey - and by whom. They also knew that the nearer they got to their destination, the more chance there was of real danger. Nevins had told Ron one night around the campfire that he was a little surprised they hadn't encountered any resistance before now.

Of course, Ron had thought to himself almost immediately, the Death Eaters could pick their moment for ambush if someone was already telling them exactly where they were.

He had voiced his suspicions to Nevins the following night. Although his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had been unusually frank with him about many matters, he seemed to dissolve into a magical copy of McGonagall when he declared, somewhat officiously, that there was no one in their group who couldn't be trusted. Privately, however, Ron was increasingly certain that there if there was a traitor in their midst, it could only be one person: Hall.

Little had dissuaded Ron that Slytherins - and especially this Slytherin - could simply not be trusted. He had not been impressed by their apparent show of loyalty in the battle of the Great Hall that night. As far as he was concerned, that had all been part of lulling them into a false sense of security. At best, it had been an alliance of convenience. It was well-known that Slytherins had no loyalty to anyone but themselves and would do anything to save their own skins. They could switch their allegiance as easily as putting on a new pair of shoes.

And so Ron had kept a very close eye on Hall. Since their initial joust at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest at the beginning of their trip, they hadn't had any more run-ins. Ron didn't wonder that Hall's attitude suited the purpose of attracting little attention to himself and whatever it was he might be up to. Well, if Hall could disguise his own intentions, so could Ron. He had remained polite and civil to Hall but still made very sure never to let the Slytherin far out of his sight.

And finally, his efforts had paid off.

It was still early one clear and cool morning, after a nighttime's heavy rain. They had just finished breakfast. It was Neville, Luna, and Ernie's turn to scourgify the remnants of their meals while Nevins did the rounds with his Eradication charms. Ron had been getting his own belongings together and occasionally chatting to Neville when he noticed that Hall was nowhere to be seen in the small, densely-foliated clearing in which they had camped for the night. He had searched around to see if Hall was still in his tent but found it had already been collapsed.

And so Ron had made an excuse to Neville and quietly scanned the surrounding area. He had already heard McGonagall's call for them to return to the clearing and resume their trip when he had found Hall, shielded by the heavy branches of a large oak, trying to stuff a parchment and quill back into his pocket when he saw Ron coming.

"I said 'Hand it over,'" Ron repeated. "Don't pretend I didn't see you!"

Hall turned around, a sardonic sneer on his face that Ron very much wanted to wipe away with his fist.

"I know who you're writing to!" he shouted, tightening the grip on his wand. "Don't try to deny it!"

Ron's strident voice had carried back into the clearing. He was relieved to hear the sound of several sets of footsteps approaching them.

"What's going on here?" demanded McGonagall crisply. "Mr. Weasley, lower your wand at once!"

Ron did not lower his wand, however, and he did not take his eyes away from Hall.

"I'll lower my wand when he hands over that parchment and quill he just tried to hide away!"

"Explain yourself, Mr. Hall," came Nevins' voice, a little more calmly than either McGonagall's or Ron's.

"I was writing to my parents," said Hall impassively, looking back at them.

"No owl communications!" Neville cried out.

Hall's lips curled up angrily. "I'm not sending it to anyone, you overstuffed hippo!" He lowered his eyes and his voice. "I want them to know what I did the last few weeks of my life in case - in case we don't make it back." He raised his head again and anger danced in his eyes. "No doubt when this is finally over, you'll all be looking forward to spending the rest of your lives as heroes. Well, my family's not going to thank me for what I'm doing! I just hoped that if they read this, maybe they'd begin to understand. Is Weasel Face satisfied now?"

"No, I'm not satisfied!" Ron shot back hotly. "You're lying! You're sending our position to the Death Eaters!"

"So I can be captured and killed along with you?"

"So you can receive your reward as a hero."

"If you're so innocent," piped in Luna, in an unusually lucid manner, "why is it you have to hide here to write?"

"So I don't have loony freaks looking over my shoulder at every word I say!"

"Yeah," said Ron, "well, it's too late now!"

He lunged quickly toward Hall to wrestle the parchment out from his robes but a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his chest in restraint. As he continued to struggle, he looked up to see who had stopped him and was surprised to find it was Nevins, who seemed to possess much more strength than Ron would have imagined. When it became clear he wasn't going to win the battle, Ron relaxed his grip. After a few more moments, Nevins released him.

"That is quite enough, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall quietly but firmly. "These are difficult times and we are all entitled to our privacy. There is no evidence that Mr. Hall planned to send that letter to anyone and you will make no further attempt to take it from him, is that clear?"

A hundred protests died on Ron's throat as he looked back at McGonagall. He knew from long experience that anything he said at this point would only make things worse.

"Yes, Professor."

"And Mr. Hall," McGonagall went on. "In future, you will address the other members of this group respectfully. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely, Professor," said Hall neutrally.

McGonagall stared at the whole group again, and let out a sigh.

"I hope I do not have to remind you all again that we have little hope of succeeding in our mission if we are divided. Now, we've still got a long walk ahead of us and I suggest we get started."

McGonagall turned on her heel to walk back to the camp, making it very clear that she expected to be followed without protest. And one by one they complied. Ron did not look back to Hall again but privately there was no doubt in his mind that he was a traitor. And it would be up to him to expose the threat before it was too late.

***

Ginny tried to keep still as Lakh'ara worked the burning edge of the ochre branch over her left cheek.

"Ginny Weasley is not hurting?" said Dobby, his ears dipping low in fearfulness.

"No, it - it doesn't really hurt. It - it tickles."

Ginny started to giggle then and Lakh'ara moved her hand away.

"I'm sorry. I expect I should keep still, shouldn't I?"

"Ginny Weasley could move but then J'k'ibir will come out in two pieces," said Dobby matter-of-factly.

"Then I won't. N'ikkuk t!uk," Ginny said to Lakh'ara, bowing her head respectfully, and drawing a short burst of childlike laughter from Siosia at the way her tongue still passed awkwardly over the clucking sounds in the Elfin words.

Ginny forced herself to keep still as Lakh'ara started once again to move the branch over her cheek, etching the dye into her face in the shape of the J'k'ibir, the tiny magical elfin pet, something of a cross between a snail and a worm, that was ubiquitous in the village. Many of the grown female elves wore similar designs on their faces or just behind their ears. The Ga'ga bird, the wood crawler, and the small Lumk!ib beetle whose bright blue coat now sparkled over the grass on the warmer nights, were all popular designs. Ginny had chosen the J'k'ibir, however, because it symbolized the patience she desperately wanted to cultivate.

Days blended quickly into nights in the village, and nights into days again. Ginny was no longer sure how much time had passed since that night when everything had happened - the night she had chased Malfoy into the empty classroom and learned the horrible truth that he was Voldemort - and Dobby had whisked her away to this village. It had been clear on that first night that they were somewhere further south than Hogwarts and, as a result, Ginny could not tell so precisely the passing of the seasons. But it seemed likely as the blossoms faded from the trees around the village, methodically replaced by the rich green leaves of summer, that they were probably into May now. Lupin was still gone for days at a stretch but Ginny never failed to spot him when he returned. Although Dumbledore included her in his moments of debriefing, he and Lupin always spent enough furtive and quiet moments together to make it very clear that there were many things about which she wasn't being told.

Ginny desperately wanted to have some news of - something. Preferably that they had received some news from Sirius (who, as far as Ginny knew, had not appeared in the village since the second day she'd arrived), or from Ron and his party, who were forbidden from contacting others. In the first few days after Dumbledore had told them how long it would be before the Hogwarts group arrived at the Lake District, Ginny had waited and waited for some sort of sign that things could be sped up: she had hardly touched the delicious food that had been prepared for her and always kept her clothes and meager belongings in one neat pile by the side of her bed as though expecting she would be called upon to leave in a hurry. But it hadn't been long before she realized that nothing was going to change very soon and that just sitting and waiting would kill her. At the same time, she saw something new every day that made her ever more curious about the strange inhabitants of the village, creatures she had thought she'd understood all of her adolescent life but now discovered she had really known nothing about at all. After watching her morose and anxious behavior from a distance, Dumbledore had gently chided her once or twice more that if she didn't try to immerse herself in this strange and wonderful culture, she would regret it later. And when finally Ginny had stopped being angry with him, she had started to listen. That and the persistent eagerness of the elfin children - especially her near constant companion Siosia - to invite her to come out and play with them.

And since the first day Ginny had decided to take the children up on their invitation, she had made every effort to immerse herself into this strange world. It had not been long before she had discovered that that wasn't very difficult to do. After feeling crushed in a school with an ever decreasing number of friends and classmates, the days and then weeks that Ginny had spent in the elfin village were wonderfully freeing. Whether it was learning new Elfin words, playing with J'k'ibir, or counting Lumk!ib at night, everything here seemed so full of color and depth. And with Siosia and her friends as constant companions, Ginny experienced everything through a child's eyes. There was something about this village that touched Ginny's soul deeply: perhaps it was because she spent her childhood growing up around nature and being here reminded her of those happy days long ago at the Burrow; perhaps it was because much of her joy of herself had been trapped in the towers of Hogwarts, imprisoned to the painful truth of her non-forgotten memories, and now it could finally be released. Whatever the case, Ginny had decided long before she had agreed to have the mark of the J'k'ibir etched on her cheek that a part of herself would always belong to this place.

Yet Ginny had spent the better part of a year clinging to the memory of her friends and her love. She was not about to forget them now - or her brother - and the danger they all faced. Indeed, sometimes there was an almost manic urgency in the way Ginny tried to find things to occupy her time lest despair take purchase on her mind again. The worst times were the nights after the children had gone to bed and Ginny was left alone with her thoughts. She had shed many sleepless tears before one night, oddly wordless, Dobby had entered her tent and placed a strange-smelling liquid beside her bed. Ginny had found it there every night since and drunk its contents to fall quickly into sleep. But there still was no potion to protect her from her waking thoughts.

As so it was when Lak'hara had finished and Ginny conjured herself a mirror to admire her handiwork that tears threatened to rush to her eyes again as she wondered whether Harry would like it. She put the mirror down and traced her fingernail over the J'k'ibir to make it walk back and forth across her face, disappear completely, and then come walking back again just as she had seen the elfin women do. Ginny knew that it would make Siosia laugh and she hoped that the sound of the laughter would force her tears away.

Ginny finally stopped playing with the J'k'ibir when she was confident she had regained her composure. She turned to Lak'hara and bowed. "Ose," she said, conveying her thanks.

"Pampa Ose," Lak'hara replied, bowing herself.

"And now Ginny will give something beautiful to Siosia," Ginny said very slowly to Siosia, making sure to catch Lak'hara's eye as well. Elves valued little else more than their children and Ginny knew that giving something to her daughter was the best way to convey her thanks for Lak'hara's beautiful work.

Siosia looked back at her mother for a moment, then nodded her understanding to Ginny. The elfin children had learned English much faster than Ginny herself had been able to learn their language.

Ginny had thought of this gift some while ago. Only the grown female elves wore the designs of the J'k'ibir, the Lumk!ib, and the Ga'ga birds on their faces, but the younger girls often wore small pendants around their necks. While the pendants varied in size and composition, each was identical in design: a small triangle enclosed by a pentagon - exactly the same design that had been inscribed on the parchment that Sirius had stolen from Umbridge. Nor wore the necklaces new; Dobby had explained to Ginny early on in her stay that the young elfin girls had been wearing them since the time he was a boy.

It unnerved Ginny that the elves had designed a representation of a magical power that dark wizards had spent a millennia trying to perfect, and that they were now trying to stop Voldemort from putting into action. There was much about elfin magic they clearly didn't know. Ginny could see what Dumbledore had meant when he had said how dangerous it would be if it fell into the wrong hands.

In spite of her misgivings about the design on the pendant, Ginny knew that Siosia very much wanted one. She had seen her eyeing them on many of the other elfin girls. Ginny wasn't at all sure her conjuring skills were up to the task but she was determined to try. She drew her wand back, then poised it in the air and concentrated hard. She wasn't sure how to begin but she found that, once she had, her wand seemed to move effortlessly through the air. It was as though she had learned the charm years ago. When she had finished, the small shape had appeared in the palm of her hand with a long, thin gold cord that tied to its top. Surprised at the success of her handiwork, Ginny picked it up and moved to place it around Siosia's neck.

But her young elfin friend immediately recoiled, her hands up in front of her and her eyes wide in concern.

"Nuduk, Jini, nuduk!"

Siosia waved her hands and Ginny stood back herself.

"I - I'm sorry," she said, withdrawing the necklace into her chest. "I - I didn't mean to - " She turned to Dobby for help. "I don't understand. All of the children wear it. I thought she would like - "

Dobby smiled but Ginny couldn't shake the feeling it was a false smile. And she could see that his ears had turned far down - as had Lak'hara's.

"Ginny Weasley was right," he replied. "All of the children want to wear the necklace. The pentrax frame is a part of elfin legend; and it will look beautiful on Siosia."

"Then why doesn't she want it?"

"Siosia is being humble, Ginny Weasley. It is the elfin - "

But Dobby had not finished his sentence when Siosia ran up to Ginny, took hold of her dress in her tiny fists, and looked pleadingly into her eyes.

"Siosia is not having the pentrax. Pentrax is Jini's pentrax. Siosia is giving to Jini."

"Nuduk, Siosia'mi J'k'ibir J'k'ibir Jini."

"Siosia Piyni Piyni Jini!" said Siosia pleadingly. "Siosia is thanking Jini but Siosia is wanting to give her the present."

"No, Siosia," said Ginny firmly. "It is my gift to you."

She held out the necklace again. Still clutching onto to Ginny's dress, the tiny elfin girl turned back to look at her mother, her eyes still very big. Lak'hara nodded once, then Siosia slowly bent her head down. Ginny crouched down herself and placed the necklace over Siosia's head.

Siosia took a step back. "Ose, Ose, Siosia is thanking you, Jini."

Ginny smiled, then bent down and touched her friend on the nose. She felt very relieved when Siosia giggled in response.

"Siosia whut!tuki swilop pi!k pik!k swilop," said Lak'hara suddenly.

"I'm sorry," said Ginny. "It's too fast for me to - "

"It is time for Siosia's mudbath now," explained Dobby, "and then she will be having her dinner and so should Ginny Weasley! Dobby is preparing Kl!amba'ar for Ginny Weasley tonight!"

"Oh." Ginny tried to keep her expression neutral. She let Dobby guide her away from Siosia and her mother who started back toward their hut. Ginny turned back briefly toward them at the same time that Siosia turned back toward her and they waved to each other. But Ginny couldn't help but think that as Siosia did so, there was something about her young friend that suddenly seemed very old. She looked back across at Dobby. He was still talking animatedly but his ears remained pointed to the earth. No, she told herself. It was not her generosity that had frightened them. It was something else. Something deeper. And whatever it was, they wouldn't or couldn't tell her.

***

"I still don't trust him," said Ron suddenly.

Nevins turned to look at him for a moment, then took out his wand, conjured another log and directed it toward the fire.

"The fire was dying," he replied to Ron's questioning expression, "and after what you just said, I thought we might be here for quite a while longer still."

"Do you trust him?" Ron looked carefully at Nevins.

"The Sorting Hat doesn't tell us who is a thief and who is a traitor, Ron. If it did, there wouldn't be much need for Aurors."

"But all the wizards that have ever gone bad were in Slytherin!"

"Were they?" Nevins chuckled. "I think you might have fallen asleep once too often in History of Magic, Ron. Not that I blame you," he added, as an afterthought.

"Yes, but what if he really is a traitor and - and he really is sending messages to You-Know-Who?"

"Then we'll all find out sooner or later. What if I didn't trust anyone on this trip, Ron? Then we'd never be able to do anything. We'd be as useless as we would be caught or killed."

Ron sighed and played idly with a stick he had picked up from the ground in front of him. "I wish I could get a look at that parchment he was writing. I've spent the last week thinking up a way I could get it. I'm still trying."

Nevins smiled. "You have the heart and mind of an Auror, Ron. But perhaps not yet the vision. I - "

Nevins stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

Nevins held up a hand for Ron to be silent and got to his feet, his relaxed demeanor now vanished. He took his wand out and held it in his hand, his eyes once again as sharp as a bird of prey, just as they had been on that day he had emerged from the Forbidden Forest out onto the Hogwarts grounds. Not needing to wait for further instructions, Ron stood up himself and took his wand out of his pocket.

"I heard something," said Nevins finally in a low whisper.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Nevins shook his head quickly. "No, she doesn't creep about quite like - Expelliarmus!"

Ron swung his head quickly in the direction where Nevins had pointed his wand. The force from the spell lit up its target long enough for Ron to catch a short, pudgy, long-nosed goblin roll into a heap underneath a birch tree on the side of their clearing.

But that was only the beginning.

Before he could react, Ron found himself shoved hard to the ground by Nevins. He heard rather than saw the sound of many objects whistling through the air. Suddenly, the world around them exploded into flame and light and the ominous sound of many things exploding at once. Ron screwed his eyes shut as dirt and embers from the fire flew quickly toward his face. He felt Nevins drag him up by the scruff of his collar and pull him over to safety behind the tree where he had shot down their first assailant.

Only then did Ron stand up to look at what had happened. He immediately wished he hadn't. Their entire camp was surrounded. At least a dozen attackers, maybe more - all goblins - held bright blue balls in their arms, each about the size of a Quaffle. As Ron watched, they threw them into the center of the camp. Several hit the ground but three or four landed on the pitched tents where the others now lay sleeping, erupting on contact into balls of flame. Ron quickly joined Nevins in letting off a volley of hexes at their attackers but he could only watch as tongues of flame leapt quickly up the sides of the tents like waves in an angry storm. Within seconds, they were completely engulfed.

***

Ginny was running quickly. The village was all asleep - or perhaps it was deserted. It didn't seem to matter now. Nothing seemed to matter.

Her feet were already on fire from running over the hard mud and earth but as soon as they touched the grass of the center space, they felt cool again. Even the flames from the brightly burning triangle sent nothing but waves of ice up Ginny's body.

But then his arms were warm again. Not the horrible stinging warmth of the hard earth. A soft, gentle, nourishing warmth like the edge of a fire on a crisp winter's night. She had forgotten that warmth, banished it from her mind so that she could be sheltered from the pain of her own longing. But now she had no need to fear that.

Harry was back. The triangle had delivered him to her. And all Ginny could hope was that nothing would wrench them apart again.

Harry released her grip finally but still held protectively onto her shoulders with his hands. Ginny found her eyes were moist and blurred from tears of relief. She quickly wiped away the tears in her sleeve so that she could focus properly on Harry's face.

It was him all right - his glasses, his scar, his untidy mop of hair - they were all there. And he was smiling back at her.

"Oh, H-H-Harry," she sobbed. "You don't know what a relief it is t-t-to finally see you again. I-I-I've - "

Emotion quickly overcame Ginny and stopped her flow of words. She rushed forward and buried herself in Harry's bosom. He clutched his arms around her again very tightly.

"I've been waiting, too, Ginny," he said. "For a long time. Waiting for you."

Ginny felt a sudden chill sweep through her body again. She released herself and looked back upwards at Harry. There was something not quite about the way he was talking. She had expected that her emotion would be returned in kind but his voice seemed slow and stilted, as though he was reciting the lines of a play for the first time.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny said suddenly, the tears quickly drying on her eyes.

"Yes, Ginny, I am all right. Why wouldn't I be? All the pieces of my destiny are complete now. Of our destiny, Ginny."

Ginny took a step backward. "Harry?" she said cautiously.

"And he's not alone. We are all here now."

Ginny gasped. From out of another corner of the triangle, as though just having stepped out of the shadows, walked Draco Malfoy.

"Harry!" she said pleadingly. "We've got to get away. He's Lord Voldemort! He's trying to capture me! We can't let him stay here. We can't let him find out about the elves and their magic."

"I quite agree, Ginny," said Harry, but still without passion. He turned to Malfoy. "Malfoy, you are our enemy. You must not find the secret of the elves. I will fight to protect them."

"As you wish, Potter," came an equally flat reply. "But that game isn't important anymore."

"You are right, Malfoy," replied Harry. He turned back to Ginny who found herself retreating further away from both of them. "There is only one game that matters. And we are all pawns in that game, the game we play for all wizard kind. We are the three corners of the triangle. Without our game, everything else will die."

"I am the god," said Malfoy.

"I am the hero," said Harry.

Both of them looked to Ginny. She had the none too comforting impression that she was supposed to say something next. But she wasn't at all sure what that could be.

"Have you forgotten your lines, Ginny?" Harry asked. "Don't you know what you are? Your memory was not altered. Don't you remember the prophecy?"

"Prophecy?" said Ginny dumbly.

"Trelawney's prophecy," said Malfoy. "We were all there. We all heard it."

"I am the god," said Malfoy again. "And like all gods what I want can only come at a terrible price to all humans."

"I am the hero," said Harry. "I am the only one who can stand up to the god. But to do so, I must pay the price. I must give up what I value most. That is the prophecy. And that is you, Ginny. You are the sacrifice."

Ginny wanted to walk much further away from both Harry and Malfoy now but found that she couldn't. The walls of flame surrounding the triangle had grown much higher and the three of them stood trapped inside. She looked over to Harry for any sign of affection or resistance but he continued to regard her with icy detachment. She was about to cry out for help but then another voice rang out sharply from somewhere out in the night outside.

"Can we really afford to take the chance, Albus? You know what's at stake if he finds us!"

"Professor Lupin!" Ginny called out. "Professor Lupin, where are - "

Ginny awoke and immediately sat bolt upright in her small feathered bed.

It had been a dream - a nightmare. Not a vision from Voldemort, she decided, but rather her own mind reminding her of horrors she had succeeded in pushing to the back of her thoughts. She had forgotten about Trelawney's prophecy.

Ginny tried to calm her racing heart. Prophecies didn't always come true, she tried to tell herself. And considering the source. It definitely wasn't anything Ginny should be worried about. Even if she -

Ginny's thoughts stopped abruptly as a sound caught her ear. There were voices nearby, low whispering voices. Was this what had woken her up? But who -

" - yes but Kreacher is an elf, Albus! He has their powers and he can penetrate their hiding places. If - "

Ginny struggled to catch the end but the voice lowered again and the end of the sentence became incomprehensible. But she recognized the speaker: it was Professor Lupin. It had been her conscious mind that had heard his voice and pulled it into her dream. He must have just returned and from the sound of things, he was very agitated.

The whispers stopped for a moment and then Ginny heard another voice - even lower than Lupin's, but slower and somewhat calmer. Dumbledore. And his words were far too quiet to make out.

Without thinking twice, Ginny rose from her bed and reached for her cloak. Not stopping to put on her shoes, she stepped swiftly but noiselessly from her hut and out onto the muddy pathway that ran alongside it.

It must have been quite late and most of the village seemed to be sleeping, but a dim light still shone through the large central hut next to hers. It took Ginny only a moment to ascertain that the voices were coming from inside. She quickly crept over the grassy patch facing it, feeling the coolness on her feet as she had in her dream. Ignoring a shudder, she made her way over to the side of the tent taking care that her shadow did not pass over the doorway. She dearly wished Fred and George could have been there to lend her a pair of Extendable Ears, yet it soon became apparent that with the flimsiness of the structure she was leaning against, it was not difficult to hear every word.

"You have too little faith, Remus," said Dumbledore.

"And you have too much!" came the sharp whispered retort. "Voldemort would not think twice about turning this village and everything in it to dust in order to get to Ginny!"

"Do you think I've not thought of this, my friend?"

There was a pause. Lupin seemed at a loss for words, and having been in enough conversations with Dumbledore herself, Ginny felt she could heartily identify with him.

It was Dumbledore who spoke again next:

"Are you quite sure it was Kreacher?"

Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Kreacher?

"Certain of it. This Death Eater was particularly talkative. I overheard him mentioning Kreacher by name. He's helping Voldemort to banish Sirius and find Ginny. Albus, he knows she's in an elf village; he just doesn't know which one or how to get to it. But Kreacher could: he's an elf; he possesses the magical ability to find and enter the village!"

"But there are many elfin villages, Remus. One of the other elves would have to tell him she was here and I don't believe that anyone in this village would be willing to do that."

"But how can you be sure?"

"I can't, not absolutely, but very few things are absolute. What would you have me do then?"

"Take Ginny and hide! Take her anywhere! Away from England if you must."

"As soon as we leave this village, we are vulnerable to goblin intelligence. They will find her and tell Voldemort exactly where she is. He may even have the ability to sense us. I cannot risk it; I'm sorry. While Ginny is still at large, Voldemort will be distracted. He will not able to completely focus his time and resources on preparing for the arc to return. And I don't think I need to remind you that we need any advantage we can gain at this point. As soon as he has her, that advantage is gone."

"But if we take her away from here, then we can make certain the village will be safe! Voldemort would have no interest in it; he already has Kreacher."

"If Voldemort succeeds, Remus, there will be nothing of this village left in any case."

The conversation paused again. The only sound Ginny could hear was the sharp pounding of blood through her head.

"Is that how you justify it?" Remus's sentence came out in a hoarse and tired-sounding whisper. "Will that be your consolation when they've all been killed? Will you pontificate before the school about their noble deaths? Or might you see this for what it is: another sad chapter in the exploitation of those different from wizard kind?"

"Remus, calm yourself, please!" Dumbledore responded, sounding less than composed for the first time. "Do you really imagine that I would stand by while Voldemort endangers the life of even one elf in this village? Or finds the secret to their power? That is the last thing I would ever want! But the alternatives are far more risky. You must have faith, Remus, faith in the elves, and faith in our plans."

Whether Dumbledore's response succeeded in mollifying Professor Lupin, Ginny never discovered. For at that point, she moved her ear away from the side of the hut and walked back across the grass to her own. It took all her willpower not to run and not to scream, let alone to make no sound at all. Once she had stepped back inside, she wound her feather blanket around and around into noiseless knots in her fists, trying to find some way to release the rage that now coursed through her veins.

She was not going to give Albus Dumbledore the opportunity to explain himself to her again. It was obvious to Ginny that she and everyone she had grown to love in this village were nothing but pawns in Dumbledore's grand schemes, schemes she no longer believed he could put into action, at least not without great cost.

And so when Ginny had finally released most of her anger and untangled her sweating palms from the blanket, she knew immediately what she had to do. Whatever Dumbledore thought, she was no longer a child; she was certainly not going to be a player in any more games - not Voldemort's and not Dumbledore's. She was going to follow her conscience. She was going to do exactly what Lupin had suggested. She was going to leave this village and she was going to leave now. She knew she could not afford to stay another moment. Where she would go, Ginny did not know. And if Malfoy captured her, then so be it. But she would not let any harm come to the elves or the village.

Ginny stood up and quickly gathered her belongings into a pile. She fought to steady the rush of adrenalin that had replaced her anger long enough to conjure a small bag in which she magically fit all of the clothes the elves had woven for her. She then strung it to her back and, almost as an afterthought, slipped on her sandals, then cautiously walked out of her hut once more.

The village still seemed quiet. Ginny considered taking a circuitous path around the side of the village where she couldn't be spotted by Dumbledore or Lupin but then decided against it: she had never really gotten the hang of the labyrinth of passageways that led in between the huts and was unlikely to master it in the pitch dark. Taking one cautious look back at the main hut, Ginny walked back down the central pathway leading away from the village center, retracing the steps she had followed with Dobby now many weeks before.

She half-expected Dobby to come running up alongside her, wondering what she was doing. Or that Dumbledore and Lupin would emerge quickly from their hut to entreat to her return. But neither of these things happened. Ginny began to breathe more easily as her distance increased from the village's center. She had almost passed the last row of huts when she became aware that she was not alone. One single small figure stood in the darkness at the center of the path ahead of her, just outside her parents' hut. It was as though Siosia had known she would be coming.

"Nayak Liopy'ah Siosia Cl!k," whispered Ginny. "It is well past Siosia's bedtime."

"Jini is leaving."

Ginny looked down into the limpid, unhesitant eyes of her little friend and sighed. She knelt down to the ground and looked straight across at her. She didn't want to tell the truth but she knew she could not lie either - not after so many of the adults in her life had spent much of her childhood lying to her.

"Ginny doesn't want to leave," she said, "but Ginny has no other choice. Ginny has to leave so Siosia can be safe."

Ginny expected Siosia to argue with her or not understand but the elfin child slowly nodded. Her eyes had a sad but strangely knowing look. She bowed her head, took off the pentrax necklace Ginny had conjured for her, and held it out to her.

"Ginny must taking this necklace. Ginny must not forgetting Siosia."

But Ginny shook her head. "N'ose, Siosia," she said. "That is Siosia's necklace. And Ginny will never forget Siosia."

But having given in to Ginny's resolve to leave, Siosia did not seem willing to concede so quietly this time.

"Necklace being Jini's!" she said, far too loudly for Ginny's liking, and held it out once again.

"A - all right, Siosia," said Ginny, fearful that her friend would wake someone else up. "Ose."

Ginny took the necklace from Siosia and placed it around her neck inside her dress. To her surprise, the short, gold cord which she had conjured for her friend seemed to magically enlarge until it was a perfect fit for Ginny.

Siosia continued to look at Ginny but now seemed content to let her go. Ginny walked past her but after a few steps, she looked back again to see that Siosia was still watching her.

"Jini will coming back to our village," she said. It did not seem like a question.

Ginny felt a lump in her throat and found herself nodding. "Yes, Siosia. One day, I will come back. I promise."

And then Ginny turned away again. This time she did not look back. She walked out of the village and climbed up the hill that she and Dobby had walked down the first night she was there. She hesitated only for a moment as she reached the top and stared out into the deep, thick forest that surrounded her on three sides. She was about to keep walking when she heard a thick flurry of feathers and gasped as a familiar snowy-white owl landed on her shoulder.

"Hedwig!" she said. Her eyes narrowed. "You haven't come to bring me back, have you?"

In response, Hedwig looked at her innocently, then bent down to affectionately nip at her hand.

"All right," said Ginny. "You can come. It's just you and I now, Hedwig." Ginny took out her wand and aimed it into the forest. "The Lake District. Point Me," she said.

The wand turned ahead and slightly to the left. The young witch took a deep breath, and then followed its path to an uncertain fate.