Hollywood or What?



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Prologue
Ars Gratia Artis

“Do not fail me,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Do not forget the incantation. A spell of this power, the slightest misstep could be disastrous.”

“Never fear, my lord. It will be done.” The young Death Eater simpered, oozing optimism. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Just get it right,” Lucius Malfoy sighed. “Tripudo Mundofinitis Sinescutum, nothing else. The last few times you tried it you caved in the potion lab, summoned a creature from the dungeon dimensions, and turned Bella into a bacon sandwich. You have to get it right on the day.”

“Don’t worry! Eleventh time lucky!”

As the young man scurried from the chamber, Malfoy glanced at Voldemort, who stood at the window with his back to him.

“You are sure Clough is the right man for the task?”

“No. But he’s eminently expendable.”

“Incredibly so,” Malfoy muttered.

* * *

It was a perfectly ordinary day at the Burrow, or at least as ordinary as days became, these days. Harry nodded to the Auror at the gate as he returned from the village, absently noting the blue-robed figure arriving a moment earlier. These days there was such a buzz around the Burrow, sealed up as it was in preparation for the imminent wedding, that it was astonishing that the muggles hadn’t noticed anything; surely, Harry sometimes thought, the muggle-blanking charms couldn’t be that effective.

But they were, of course; mere weeks before he’d died, Dumbledore had spent several days at the Burrow, setting up a ward system rivalling Hogwarts’ in its intricacy. It was rumoured – or at least, Dobby had said – that even house-elves found it difficult to materialise within the wards. And with the Aurors and magically-enhanced walls and alarm spells along the entire perimeter, it was quite possible that the Burrow was the most secure location in Britain.

Harry smiled to himself as he strolled up the drive, a shopping bag in each hand. It was just as well, he mused, that Ginny had persuaded him to stay with them until the wedding; here she was safe, Ron was safe, Hermione was safe, everyone was safe, and Harry could sit and plan in peace and quiet.

Ginny jogged up to him as he approached the house. She had been exercising ruthlessly since she’d heard Harry’s plans, in an attempt to prove to him that she was qualified to come with him, and, well... it was looking as if Harry’s excuses to keep her home were, one by one, becoming moot.

“Harry,” she panted, “is that dinner?”

“A dinner by your mum in two bags? This is just the first lot, Ron and the twins are still half a mile back. This is just the first lot, so the ice cream wouldn’t melt.”

Ginny snagged a towel hanging outside the door, wiping the sweat off her forehead as they went inside.

“Four miles in twenty-five minutes, Harry. And that’s after ten miles on the broom in fifteen minutes. I’m coming with you.”

“Ginny–“

“I’m coming with you.”

Harry was starting to get irritated. He’d drawn up a long list of prerequisites that had, he had announced, to be completed before he’d let Ginny accompany him, Ron and Hermione on their quest. Irritatingly, however, she was far too rapidly chewing her way through the admittedly rather excessive list.

“Well, there’s still the Patronus...”

“Done.” She nodded to the window; Harry looked out, and saw a silvery pine marten frolicking through the flower bed. Harry frowned.

“Duelling?”

“I beat Remus, Bill, George and Dad this morning.”

“Well, we all knew you’d be able to take them one-on-one, but...”

“All at once.”

“Ah.”

He dumped the bags on the kitchen table and headed for the stairs, Ginny hot on his heels.

“Um... sixth-year studies?”

“And seventh.” Harry stopped, turned and looked sceptically at her.

“That’s impossible.”

“Most of them, anyway. I had plenty of incentive. And no, you can’t copy off my essays. But Hermione’s gone through them and says they’re fine.” She frowned briefly, thinking. “You know, she’s been pretty quiet since then.”

“Um...” Harry resumed his climb, until the safe haven of his - formerly Percy's - room was within bolting distance. “Well, you can’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because...” he dived for the door. “I say so!”

The door slammed.

Ginny blinked in surprise, harrumphed under her breath, and continued, grumbling.

* * *

The nerve, she thought angrily to herself as she kicked off her shoes in her bedroom and grabbed her bathrobe. There’s absolutely no reason I should stay home, and he knows it.

The stomped across the landing and into the bathroom. She hung her robe on the hook by the door, and shrugged off her t-shirt.

“I’m just as qualified as he is,” she muttered aloud, walking to the bathtub. “I should go after Volde-bloody-mort all by myself, just to show him.”

She yanked the shower curtain aside – and was met by a blue-robed figure with a pinched face and bulbous eyes. And a big grin.

“Be careful what you wish for, kiddo.” He grabbed her before she could run, and pointed his wand at the far wall. “Tropdy Mund... Trappo... Tripudo Mundofinitis Sellulosa!” A bright white blast of light launched from his wand, coalescing into a minute, flickering rectangle of glowing silver.

A moment later, the alarms went off. Through the window, she saw the Aurors outside look around and drop into combat stances, glancing every which way for the threat. None of them thought to look indoors.

“You can’t get out,” she told him, letting her anger cancel out the fear. “That’s the only door, portal spells can’t leave the property, and apparation won’t work at all. If you give up, they probably won’t kill you.”

“In this dimension, perhaps,” he sneered. “Postulo Foris!”

The tiny silver rectangle expanded, becoming a flickering, spinning, pulsating letterbox of argent light. Perhaps, she thought, this guy does have a plan after all.

“HAAARRYYYY!” she shouted.

* * *

Harry looked up from his book as an ear-splitting, ululating wail filled the air. He’d only heard it once before, when Dumbledore tested the wards, but he knew exactly what it meant. Active Incursion.

In a fraction of a second, he was on his feet and at the door.

Another second, and he was at the stairs, ready to join the defence outside, when–

“HAAARRYYYY!”

The shout came from indoors, from the floor above.

He changed course, pounded up the stairs. A strange, silver light flickered through the crack under the bathroom door.

He paused only a moment, knowing Ginny had gone for a shower, before he charged the door full speed and parked his foot just above the doorknob.

The door burst open, splintered wood charring and slicing into the walls as his panic discharged raw magic into the air. His eyes flashed around the room, looking for Ginny.

But the room was empty... apart from a slowly shrinking, flickering curtain of swirling light. There was no sign of Ginny, or any attacker.

There was only one course of action, and it was obvious. There was no time to get anyone, to tell anyone. He glanced toward the door, saw that no help was forthcoming.

He backed up two steps, then, with a short run-up –

– he dived into the vortex.

And the silver screen closed behind him.