Thicker Than Water: Year Six

Chapter 25 - The Final Riddle

On the Monday of that week, Tonks had picked up her mail at her private postal box in the heart of Diagon Alley. Late for work, she hadn't got the chance to open her letters until over her lunch hour at the Ministry. She read the brief note from Kingsley Shacklebolt while chewing a marmite sandwich.

Choking on the crust, she hastily slid the note under a pile of papers and leaned back in her chair to look out from her cubicle. Kingsley Shacklebolt was nowhere to be seen, and Tonks bent over her desk to read his letter again.

My Darling Dorine,

I was disappointed to wake up and find myself alone; your presence is like the sun, and it was denied me that morning. Perhaps we could get together to talk about it? Please meet me this Saturday at noon at Kew Gardens, outside the main pavilion. There is something of a personal nature I would like to discuss with you. I thought we could grab a bite to eat, then look at the gardens. The flowers in bloom are fragrant at this time of year, but none are as lovely as you. Yours affectionately, Kingsley

A sudden panic gripped her, as she wrung her clammy hands in alarm and stared wildly about the cubicle. Tonks had been agitated since the night she awoke in his arms, the bad mistake of too much alcohol. The memory she had of that night was hazy - mainly because she was trying so desperately not to remember the way his fingers had moved on her dark skin. As Mrs. Evangy, she had written only one inadequate note, short and lame in its excuse of her absence at daybreak. As Tonks, she had coolly avoided her colleague, which wasn't too hard to do.

But he had written her back anyway. Despite the same-sex lifestyle she had led for a decade, it didn't take much ingenuity to see a marriage proposal coming from a mile away. Romantic gardens, a spring day, a note signed "yours affectionately"? This couldn't be happening to her!!

What was I thinking?! I've got to end this! Quickly! Tonks mused, snatching up a piece of parchment and writing in a delicate calligraphy back to her co-worker. She told him Saturday was out of the question, but could he please meet her at the Ministry cafeteria during the week? She proposed they meet for coffee on Wednesday at 3:30 pm. After lunch on Wednesdays, there was always an Auror departmental meeting that lasted up to two hours. It would give her enough time to change after the session and get down to the cafeteria. This time she would have to be firm with Shack: first an apology about the misunderstanding of their night together, then she would tell him that a relationship wasn't going to work, and to stop contacting her. She didn't relish breaking the news, or having to face his disappointment as a colleague at work afterwards.

Wednesday came far too quickly for her liking. Throughout the Auror's meeting, Tonks cast nervous glances at Shacklebolt out of the corner of her eyes. When they had wrapped up the day's business, she excused herself and dashed to a small room at the corner of the department that bore a small sign on its door: Auror Disguises. Slipping inside, Tonks rummaged through the racks until she found the outfit she was looking for.

Peering around the door, Tonks saw that Shacklebolt was no longer there; he had presumably gone down to the cafeteria already. She glanced at her watch, then hurried to a bathroom in the main corridor to change.

*

On Wednesday afternoon, warm sunlight streamed through the window and onto a sickly man with a long white beard lying on the bed. A bird with brilliant plumage sat perched on the bedside table, maintaining a concerned vigil. The patient stirred, and the stately man sitting beside him looked up from the file of papers he was reading to see if the other was awake.

"I see Madame Pomfrey's Dreamless Draught has worked its magic. How are you feeling now that you've rested up a bit?" Amos Diggory asked Dumbledore kindly. The Headmaster made to answer, but doubled over as a coughing spell wracked his frame.

At the sound, Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her office and came to check her patient. She helped him to sit up, adjusting the pillows behind his back and pouring a glass of water. Dumbledore accepted it gratefully, and settled back against the pillows.

"Thank you very much, Poppy! I'm fine, Amos. It has been a difficult year for us all, and I was long overdue for a good bout of illness. This old bag of bones isn't as resilient as it used to be," Dumbledore said hoarsely.

"You've definitely given us all a fright. This war with Voldemort - you've been at the forefront for two years now, never letting up; I'm afraid the toll has been your health. You'll have to take it easy for a while, old man, and give the Ministry a chance to pick up the slack for a change!" Diggory reassured him.

Dumbledore looked mildly over at him, gave a slight smile, and politely reserved any comment about the Ministry. Diggory said, "Some of the teachers were by earlier to see you. Professor McGonagall assured me she'd return after her afternoon classes. You're much loved at the school; a few students came by to inquire about your health, and were most concerned to hear that you were ill."

The smile that flitted over Dumbledore's face was genuine, his eyes lighting up. Perceiving this, the Minister of Magic continued. "Yes, it was one of the Weasley boys, a black boy with him, and another..."

The Headmaster's expression changed immediately. He leaned forward and grabbed Diggory's arm. "What did they want? What did they say?"

"I... I don't know," stammered Diggory, alarmed by Dumbledore's tone. "They were quite eager to see you, but I told them of your grave illness and the fact that you needed to rest."

"Fawkes!" The beautiful phoenix came at his master's summons, and hopped onto the bed. "Find them for me! Search the entire castle and bring them here."

In a flash of fire, the bird was gone. Diggory looked confused, and asked, "What was that

all about?"

"Those are no ordinary students, Amos," replied Dumbledore, and he began drumming his long, crooked fingers on the bedcovers. Madame Pomfrey came back from the end of the hospital wing with a potion for him, insisting it would help clear his lungs.

Within fifteen minutes, the bird had returned in a sudden, blinding flash. Perched at the foot of Dumbledore's bed, it opened its beak and let out seven sad notes, ringing out in quick succession.

"Seven of them? But... how...? Did you search the grounds too?" Dumbledore asked urgently. The bird replied with the same doleful sounds.

Dumbledore abruptly swung his legs out of the bed and tried to stand. Another prolonged bout of coughing stopped him, as both Madame Pomfrey and Amos Diggory protested his attempt to rise.

He shook them off, and conjured a quill, ink, and small roll of parchment. Scrawling a hasty note, he handed it to Fawkes and said, "I need you to alert the Order about the missing students!"

*

Luna sat in History of Magic, humming musical permutations into the monotonous drone of Binns' monologue. They had this class at the same time as the Gryffindors, but Ginny had to be skiving because she hadn't shown up to class. Luna was mildly disappointed; they'd had a few good rounds of hang-man during History of Magic before, and she felt she could use the distraction today.

A strange feeling drew Luna out of her tune, and made her look out the window. The warm spring sun poured onto the Hogwarts grounds while Binns talked unceasingly about goblins. Luna glanced down at the mood-ring on her left hand, and sat up straight with a gasp of concern. Though the snowflake on her bracelet had a dull pearly sheen, the cube that told her Harry's feelings was a tense, swirling grey-black.

She stood up abruptly. The stupor of History class was disrupted as all heads turned towards her. Binns, too, looked up to see what was going on.

"I have to go now," Luna said in a clear voice. Her classmates snickered at the odd girl, and more than a few whispers could be hear. Luna ignored them, and walked right out the classroom door.

She hadn't gone too far when Luna spied Dean Thomas coming her way. She said, "Hi Dean. Have you seen Ginny anywhere?"

Dean had a look of concern and confusion as he replied. "No, no I haven't. I was going to walk her to her History of Magic class, but she wasn't at the place where we were supposed to meet. I found her stuff there, though." Dean slung a backpack off his shoulder and, sure enough, it was Ginny's school bag.

"Well, she's not in History of Magic either. I just walked out of there a minute ago." Luna eyes were glued to the bag, and a sense of foreboding filled her. "If you do find her, please tell her to come to last year's D.A. room, okay?"

"I'd better go look for her," Dean said nervously.

Luna nodded, and walked off decisively towards the dungeons, where Harry was in Potions. When she got there, she rapped twice on the dungeon door and walked boldly into Snape's lair. The first thing she did was scan the faces of the curious students staring at her; Luna wasn't upset but not surprised to see that Harry was absent, and her gaze lingered on Hermione instead.

"Miss Lovegood, could you please explain the reason for this intrusion?" Snape's low, cold voice accosted her.

"I need to talk to Hermione right now, sir," she replied in a nonchalant manner, walking up to the bushy-haired girl and pulling at her arm.

"I do not allow NEWT-level Potions classes to be interrupted for the sake of little chit-chats or gossip sessions!" said Snape menacingly.

"Nevertheless, Hermione has to come with me now," Luna declared evenly. A wary Hermione caught the expression on Luna's face, and hesitantly stood up.

"Miss Lovegood! Miss Granger! This is unacceptable...!" Sanpe's voice was raised - always a bad sign. Luna turned to Snape and whipped up her wand arm. As Snape opened his mouth to say something, she sent a volley of images hurtling at the potions master, hoping that he could detect them.

Harry had told Luna about Snape's abilities in Occlumency and Legilimency. Luna counted on them now. Sure enough, the cold anger went out of the man's face and his mouth opened in astonishment as the images assailed him. Suddenly his hand flew up to his opposite forearm with a tight grip. Luna felt she had made her point, and quickly pulled a baffled Hermione out of the dungeon with her.

Snape stared at the departing girls with surprise. Then he wheeled around and, with an agitated voice, addressed Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw sixth-year prefect. "Mr. Boot, I want you to supervise the completion of the Incapacitation Potion. The rest of you will work in silence, or risk detention. I want samples left on my desk at the end of class. Continue!"

And to the amazement of the entire sixth year Potions class, Snape hurried out of the dungeon without a backwards glance.

*

At the Ministry, the cafeteria was fairly quiet at that time of the afternoon. The odd witch or wizard sat absorbed in a newspaper or a pile of work. At a corner table sat a tall, balding Auror next to a dark petite woman in conservative robes. She was playing with the black hairs that escaped the bun at the nape of her neck, twirling them in apparent agitation.

"Kingsley, we really have to talk about a few things," Tonks said.

"My sweet Dorine, I was hoping we would have some time in private on the weekend..." Shacklebolt began, trying to take one of her hands in both of his.

"No, no! I can't!" Tonks declared breathlessly, pulling her hand away from his. "Kingsley, this just isn't going to work..."

Shacklebolt looked confused and said, "I thought after the other night that you..."

"No, Kingsley, it's time to get a few things straight between us," Tonks said, bracing herself for the talk. Now that she had to call it off, Tonks found she just didn't have the heart to hurt him. The memory of their unexpected intimate night caused her a sudden shiver, which disconcerted her even more.

A bright flash right before her face caused her to jump backwards. Two bright phoenix feathers hung suspended in the air between the two Aurors.

Shacklebolt reached out automatically and removed a piece of parchment that was wound around the feather tip. He unrolled it, scanned the writing, and a serious - if disturbed - look crossed his face. While he was so engaged, Tonks grabbed at the other phoenix feather and read her note.

"Oh shit!!" she declared loudly, and the older Auror looked up at her in surprise.

"Pardon me?" he asked in surprise, then indicated the note in his hand. "There's been an emergency, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave..."

"I'm coming with you," Tonks said, and started to stand up.

"Oh, no, Dorine; this is a security matter, for Aurors," he tried to explain hastily, but she interrupted him with a growing dread, and grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away.

"I have to tell you something, Shack. I'm not Dorine Evangy. It's me, Tonks."

Pulling out the band that held her bun and screwing up her face painfully, Tonks turned her hair back into a bubblegum pink colour. Kingsley Shacklebolt recoiled as though he had received an electrical shock, and jerked his arm out of her reach. He stared at her appalled, mouth opening silently, astonished and hurt by the duplicity. Tonks held up her piece of parchment as though in support of her claim, her heart sinking as she saw how she had wounded him.

Coming back to life, Shacklebolt asked slowly, "But... what about the boy?"

"It's Harry, Shack," Tonks told him. "Harry Potter. He didn't die last summer."

The man stared at her, and then slowly looked back down at his slip of parchment. "Harry Potter. Investigate the Riddle House, Little Hangleton. Hogwarts students missing. Weasley girl presumed taken. You don't mean...?"

A change suddenly came over his face: it took on a professional demeanour, the look of a man who was used to acting quickly and calmly in the face of conflict. "There's no time to lose. Let's go, then."

Shacklebolt didn't look at Tonks as he turned abruptly and led the way out of the cafeteria. His face was set sternly, but his eyes with their deadened expression belied the pain Tonks' revelation had caused.

Unnoticed by the two of them, a junior wizard from the Department for Magical Games had been standing nearby, pouring a coffee for himself from the cafeteria urn. When Kingsley read Dumbledore's message out loud, he had frozen in the act, overfilling his coffee cup and scorching himself with the steaming beverage. As the two Aurors swept out of the cafeteria, he started and abandoned his coffee. Behind Tonks and Kingsley came the frantic form of Percy Weasley, alarmed by the words "Weasley girl presumed taken".

*

The crying was driving her crazy. At her wits end, Fleur picked up the fussing baby, and tried to offer him her breast again. He would have not of it, and his howls redoubled in pitch.

Claude was normally the ideal baby. He only woke once or twice at night for feedings, and napped well during the day. When awake, he was content to look at his Quidditch mobile or watch the colourful fish-caricatures swimming around the bumper pads of his crib. But this afternoon, the Veela prince, her little Weasley child, was testing her parental fortitude.

He had woken up suddenly, only half an hour into his nap, and begun to bawl. Checking to see if Claude had a wet nappy, Fleur had found no problem and tried to settle him back down to sleep. Claude continued to cry, urgently, his tiny face purple and tearless, minute fists waving about in agitation.

Just as Fleur thought perhaps a walk through Diagon Alley might calm the baby, Bill appeared suddenly in the living room and burst into the bedroom. "Fleur? Are you dressed? Good! Grab Claude, we have to get you to Hogwarts."

"But Bill, I don't understand... I can't go: Claude is very upset, I'm worried there's something wrong with him," said Fleur, jumpy from the intense fit her son was making her endure.

"It has to be now, Fleur, now!" Bill picked up the screaming child and wrapped a blanket around him. He placed Claude into Fleur's arms and strode quickly out of the bedroom. She followed and saw that he had picked up the bag of spare diapers next to the door, which Bill slung around her shoulder.

"I've received an urgent summons from the Order: Dumbledore wrote that Harry's gone searching out Voldemort's lair, and that we're to go get him back. He wrote that I should get you two to Hogwarts first; looks like it's time to get that blood protection we gave him working, just in case something happens. Are you ready?"

Shell-shocked, Fleur nodded, her eyes wide as she pressed the squirming, crying Claude against her for comfort. Bill pulled out a magnificent Phoenix feather and placed it on the dining table. He touched it with his wand, and the colours glowed brilliantly. "This will take you to the school. Hold on tight to Claude, will you?"

Fleur looked with concern at Bill, and he met her eyes with a look of uncharacteristic worry. The moment of hesitation bespoke the wrench of parting, the fear that something no good might come out of that day's mission. Then Bill said urgently, "You'd better go."

She moved towards the table, and he raised a hand to caress the tiny child's soft-as-feathers hair, ginger on the small round head. Then Bill withdrew his hand and Fleur reached for the feather. The portkey swept them out of sight, and Bill was left looking at the empty space beside the table. A moment later, with the crack of apparition, he too was gone.

*

In the Room of Requirement, Ron had tackled Harry the very moment he and Neville reached for the eraser-portkey. As a result, all three boys landed in an awkward, tangled heap only feet away from a large tombstone, silhouetted by the afternoon sun against a dreary graveyard. The invisibility cloak had half-slipped off of Ron's torso revealing his head, chest and left arm; the rest of him remained sheathed and indiscernible from the ground around him.

Extricating himself from the tangle of limbs, Harry7 stood up and swore an angry oath. "Ron, what in Merlin's name are you doing here? It's enough I've got to face Voldemort again tonight, without your knocking the life out of me first!"

The other two boys pulled themselves to their feet, and Ron straightened the cloak so that only the hood was down; his head was the sole part of his body that remained visible. He said angrily back, "What did you expect, that I'd stay behind while they're torturing Ginny? You're not sending me back, Harry, we've been through too much together!"

"Well, it's too late now!" snapped Harry. Neville cut him off by nudging both Harry and Ron hard, pointing up to the top of the hill. Two sentinels walked close together, stepping out of the late afternoon shade. Ron and Neville saw them against the stark hilltop; Harry saw them pacing a walkway that led to an imposing, stately manor on the swell of ground above the graveyard.

Harry's stance immediately changed into the tensed position of a cat prowling after mice. "Ron, if you've got to be here, at least keep the hood up! Get between those two and the house, and back us up. Neville and I will try to stun those two Death Eaters, then we'll all go inside."

"Inside where?" Ron asked with a puzzled look up the hill.

"The Riddle house, right there. It's under the Fidelius Charm," Harry explained, pointing.

"Then how come you can see it?" asked Ron, "Or can you?"

"He's been raking through Voldemort's mind," Neville replied quietly. Ron's head snapped back to look at his green-eyed friend with interest, but Harry just beckoned them forward.

Ron pulled up the hood of the cloak and disappeared from view. Harry and Neville crept towards the sentinels, keeping low and in the shadows as much as possible. They approached the two men near enough to hear their conversation.

"Wish I could be inside for the initiation," said the first, a lean young man with a cratered complexion. "What about you? You're no junior; how come you got stuck on guard duty?"

"Dark Lord's angry, I s'pose," mumbled the second man, a big, beefy specimen whom Harry recognised as Goyle Senior. "My fool son wouldn't join up with his friends."

A sound like a hooting came from near the house. Both men turned to look, the first saying, "What the...?"

Harry and Neville immediately shot stunners at their turned backs, and the men collapsed on the walkway. Harry had identified the call as Ron's and hoped that his invisible friend had moved himself out of the line of fire. They dragged the bodies behind a row of shrubs, aided by an unseen Ron. Once they were firmly bound, Harry whispered, "We'll go into the house now!"

"Harry, we can't see our way in," Neville said.

"Hold onto me then," he replied. They formed a human chain, Neville holding Harry's left arm, with Ron's hand planted firmly on Neville's shoulder. Harry moved slowly towards the ornate front door, its mullioned windows set in a thick wooden frame. When found it locked, he pointed his wand and said, "Alohomora!"

The door wouldn't yield. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the fleeting moments he had spent fishing through Voldemort's mind. Recalling a phrase that sounded like a password, he uttered, "Alterum ictum faciam!"

Instead of the expected click of an opening lock, the door itself shimmered for a moment before dissolving away altogether. Ron and Neville blinked into the hallway beyond, which had just become visible to their eyes. They hesitantly stepped over the threshold still holding on to one another, Ron hidden by the invisibility cloak. When they turned to look over their shoulders, they saw the door shut behind them, dark and solid.

Tiptoeing through a darkened hall, they came to a staircase and Harry knew they would have to ascend to find Voldemort's lair. On the landing, a very young and newly minted Death Eater was jumping to his feet. They had obviously caught him drowsing while on watch, and three wands made quick work of this latest sentinel.

The remaining passage way was eerily devoid of guards. The dim sound of voices propelled them towards the end of the passage. They halted midway along the corridor, frozen by an urgent plea for help. It stopped, then the air was pierced by a loud scream. The voice belonged to a man, and was followed by a hearty round of laughter. Neville winced in horror, and Harry wondered if they had arrived too late for Ginny. He started to grope the air behind him, whispering, "Ron! The cloak!"

Ron reappeared about three feet from Harry's outstretched hand. He was staring towards the door where the noise was coming from, face a deathly white beneath his freckles.

Harry grabbed the cloak and turned it inside-out. Tapping it with his wand, he said clearly, "Reveal me!" just as another shout and laughter burst out of the room.

Neville and Ron gasped in quiet surprise as at least a dozen Harrys appeared in the corridor around them, shimmering and opaque. They all turned simultaneously, but only one voice spoke. "Wait for me here! I'm going to try to get Ginny if she's in there, then I'll need you to take her back to Hogwarts, Ron."

All the Harrys raised their wands and conjured a trophy resembling the ancient Goblet of Fire. With a flick of his wand, the goblet momentarily vibrated and glowed a pale blue. All the figures bent to place it on the floor but when they straightened again, only one portkey sat on the hall carpet, a tangible object.

Ron looked from the trophy to the Harry-form closest to it. "What about you?" he asked in a quivering voice.

"I have unfinished business in there - Neville and I," Harry said, wheeling around as another tortured scream issued from the room. Whispering one last, "Wait here," Harry reached for the knob and entered the room.

*

The room was elongated and rectangular; its furnishings were tastefully old-fashioned, a cross between a library reading room and an old men's club. Hermione cast a curious look around the space, wondering if it resembled the Ravenclaw common room. She then glanced across the Room of Requirement at Luna, who had paced to the empty fireplace and was fingering the large cube-ring on her left hand.

"Snape is not going to be happy with you, interrupting his lesson like that," Hermione said. Did something happen? What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," Luna replied, looking over at Hermione earnestly, her large eyes opened wide. "His mood indicator is unnaturally dark, and he's not in class..."

"But... maybe he's in the common room, or cutting class with Ron. They were talking about playing Quidditch after lunch," said Hermione hopefully.

Luna shook her head sadly. "No, something else is wrong. I have a strange feeling, just like the one I had the day his home was blown up last summer. I don't know what it is, but I feel - like he's in some sort of trouble. He needs us now."

"Maybe we should go look for him then. It's probably a good idea to tell Professor Dumbledore if there's a problem," suggested Hermione.

"We won't find him," said Luna simply, staring at the angry flecks that darted across the surface of the ring. "He isn't here. Hermione, it's time for us to protect him, to love him. But I can't find Ginny, and we need her too."

"The blood protection," Hermione stated redundantly. "But how... Will it work?"

Luna shrugged and she sat in a high-backed chair. Patting the seat beside her, she waited for Hermione to join her. When both girls were seated, Luna took Hermione's hand and said, "Think of him. Tell him we're with him, and that he's not alone. Dean will send Ginny here when he finds her."

The two girls looked meditatively past each other. Still holding hands, they visited their best memories of the times they had spent with Harry. With a little voice in her mind, Luna called out to Harry across a distance unknown, We are here, Harry, we are with you! And I love you!

*

Accompanied by a cavalcade of shimmering clones, Harry marched in on the Death Eaters. They were gathered in a circle around a writhing muggle who was crying in pain on the floor. The middle-age man had wet his pants, and the odour of fresh urine permeated the air. At one end of the circle - wand extended towards his victim - stood a leering Crabbe. Farther along, Theodore Nott stood beside an older bleach-blond muggle woman who had been bound while she awaited his initiation. Beside them, Draco Malfoy was shooting nasty looks at an incarcerated Ginny; her mouth had been stopped by a silencing spell, but she continued to struggle fruitlessly against her magical bonds.

At the far end of the room, Harry laid eyes on a surprised Voldemort. The abomination of a wizard stood alone, a position he had gained through the respect - or was it fear? - of his gathered minions. The skeletally thin Voldemort went whiter than usual, his slit-like eyes narrowing even further as they wildly surveyed the band of shimmering Harrys that had entered the doorway and were fanning out around the room.

Crabbe dropped his wand, and the muggle lay whimpering pathetically on the rug. The assembled Death Eaters shrank back in fearful alarm. Even Voldemort sounded a note of fear as he spoke in a high, cold voice. His look had finally settled on a false Harry situated near the centre of the room, and Voldemort addressed him. "Harry Potter!! I might have known, after the intrusion I felt not an hour ago! Though how you've eluded my probing all these months..."

"I took a page out of your book and learned how to keep you out, Tom," Harry replied coolly.

The Death Eaters murmured angrily at his tone and familiar address. At the sound of his voice, Bellatrix Lestrange leapt forward and hexed a clone just two over from the real Harry. The spell flew through the incorporeal boy and a Death Eater on the right side of the circle fell to his knees, hands clutching his abdomen where a dark circle was spreading outwards on his green robes.

Ignoring the injured man, Voldemort shouted, "Bella, no! Don't!"

He followed the shimmering figures with his eyes as the Harrys continued to circle maddeningly around the room. With a swift and sudden movement like a blur of light, Voldemort fired several spells in quick succession at the Harry-apparitions, paying no attention to Death Eaters who hadn't moved out of the way swiftly enough.

One beam of light grazed Harry's shoulder and he sucked in his breath painfully, but didn't cry aloud. He felt blood trickling through his shirt, though; knowing blood would help identify him, he pre-emptively ripped off the invisibility cloak and dropped it in a heap on the floor. In the blink of an eye, all the extra Harrys winked out of existence and the real thing ceased to be a translucent shimmer.

Voldemort wore a look of satisfaction, and the Death Eaters - facing one corporeal form of the Boy-Who-Stayed-Alive instead of many ghostly versions - began to close in on him. Ginny shouted voicelessly at Harry's predicament; Malfoy turned and casually, smugly backhanded her across the face.

Voldemort flicked his wand at Harry. Harry threw up a shield, and a sizzling sound could be heard as Voldemort's hex contacted it, throwing up a minute shower of blue sparks. Many wands around the circle were instantly raised at Harry, but Voldemort let out a high hiss, indicating that the battle was his to fight. Harry took advantage of the hiss to rapid-fire three hexes at the evil wizard, but Voldemort dismissively flicked them away with his own wand, fury in his cold eyes.

"Do you think I will let you set the terms of this match?" said Voldemort disdainfully, brandishing a spell like a whip. Harry wasn't fast enough, and he could feel himself being wrapped up, as though by a massive invisible bandage securing his middle. He maintained a firm hold on his wand with Fawkes' tail-feather, but his arm was immobilised at his side.

"I think I have already set them!" spat Harry with the full intention of vexing his opponent.

Voldemort laughed. With the air of a cat toying with a mouse, of a beast who once again held the upper hand, he took a couple of steps forward towards the Harry. Then he turned to the side, and faced the bound Ginny. "Ah, my feisty little red-head here can finally be of some use! How about helping me dispose of this irritant?"

The Dark Lord lifted her silencing spell, and Ginny's angry hollers could be heard. Harry shouted out, "Is that what you need? For her to do what you are incapable of finishing?"

Various Death Eaters let out shocked exclamations at his audacity. With the air of a cat toying with a mouse, of a beast that once again held the upper hand, Voldemort looked at the immobile Harry and said, "I will see you gone tonight, with all these witnesses about me, if I have to use the girl or do it with my own hands, Potter!"

To Ginny, he spoke in his unnatural high voice but in the soothing tones of a confidant that Harry had heard before from the memory of Tom Riddle. "My pet, who do you serve?"

Ginny gathered a mouthful and spat onto the floor in front of Voldemort. He smiled cruelly at her and said, "Let us try that again. Who do you serve?"

This time, under Voldemort's Imperius Curse, Ginny gave up the struggle and cried in a choked voice, "You! I serve you, Tom!"

"And what will you do for your Tom?" Voldemort asked nastily, walking slowly towards her.

Ginny shuddered and seemed to struggle for a moment, but under the power of his wand, she replied mechanically, "I will make him bleed, Tom. I will cut him for you!"

Voldemort stopped in front of Ginny and ran one pale finger down the side of her cheek. He said softly, "Yes, you will cut him, and then you will be mine! I will make your muggle-loving parents and their interfering friends regret their meddling into my agenda. I should have had your father last Christmas, but no matter: I will see him suffer yet."

Turning back to Harry, Voldemort said almost pleasantly, "You see, Harry, I find my allies in the strangest of places. Young Malfoy would have made a spectacle of this girl today, but she is worth so much more than that. What a treasure he has brought me! I haven't left an imprint on her for nothing."

Harry struggled against his bonds, but his protestations only left him the recipient of his own Silencing Charm. Voldemort called in a cruelly reassuring tone, "Come, my pet. Let us see what you can do with a wand!"

Ginny's bonds ceased to be and she mechanically stepped out to take her proffered wand. Voldemort orchestrated with his wand, moving her to the centre of the room where she faced Harry. She raised the wand. Harry looked directly into her eyes as Ginny prepared to hex him, in silence pleading with her to fight the Imperius curse and exert her own will. She could not, and she unthinkingly uttered the killing curse in a firm voice devoid of emotion.

The jet of green light exploded around him in a dazzle of green sparks. No hex of Ginny's could have so much as scratched Harry's skin: she had willingly, eagerly given her blood to protect him. The bond between them overpowered any ill intention that Voldemort had imbued her with. Ginny snapped out of her reverie the moment the green sparks careened off of Harry. She looked down at her wand in horror then dropped it like a burning coal, sinking to her knees in dismay. The shocking burst of her spell had loosened the bonds and Harry methodically sought to shake them off altogether.

With a howl of frustrated fury, Voldemort hollered, "Again you have repelled it! What sort of magic is this?!"

Just then, the door burst open with a loud thud causing the tense Death Eaters to jump in alarm. Severus Snape strode in wearing his black work robes and a blacker scowl on his face. He glared angrily at Harry for a fraction of a second before turning his attention to Voldemort.

"My Lord," he said in his low, oily voice, performing a brief obeisance. "I only just found out about the Potter boy. I came as quickly as I could!"

"Really, Severus, so nice of you to join our initiation now that we have found a new volunteer for martyrdom!" called an angry and visibly shaken Voldemort. His eyes never left Harry's incarcerated form, but his tone provided ample warning to Snape of his extreme displeasure. "And would you have me believe that, all this past year, your dear muggle-loving friends haven't given you an inkling of the boy's existence."

"I was not aware of it, my Lord!" said Snape, maintaining an even keel. "But I'd be glad to rid you of this blight!"

Snape had moved around the side of the circle to face his pupil. His anger quickly turned to Harry, who returned a goading glare at the professor. Snape raised his wand, sending the full volley of his hatred at Harry. It was intense enough to cause Harry's scar to prickle painfully and his hand flew up to his forehead. Instantaneously, Harry felt Snape's unspoken words embed themselves urgently in his mind: Nott! Malfoy! Harry instinctively ducked as Snape's two beams of red light narrowly missed him and conveniently hit the two Slytherin boys standing a ways behind him. Snape had purposefully situated himself facing Harry but opposite them, so that his house-charges crumpled to the floor, stunned.

A sudden invisible barrier appeared to catch Snape mid-step, halting his wand arm. Voldemort's voice, high and angry, issued forth. "I will not give you the satisfaction, Severus! As it is, your motives are suspect: the Potter boy's presence today calls either your abilities or your loyalty into question. If we can't finish our initiation, I will at least be inscribing the Mark on this young subject before I dispose of his body!"

His wand was forced from his hand as the barrier seemed to push Snape backwards, until it trapped him against a wall. To Harry's surprise, the potions master retained an impassive expression and said not a work, not even in his own defence.

The encounter with Snape had taken but a minute. Concerned by the professor's entrance, both Neville and Ron had come to the conclusion that - if facing Voldemort and Death Eaters wasn't already strenuous enough - Snape's presence definitely called for their own at Harry's side. They burst into the meeting room, knocking three Death Eaters to the floor simply with the advantage of surprise. The other Death Eaters, on edge but shut out of the confrontation between Harry and Voldemort, turned to deal with Neville and Ron.

All eyes had momentarily turned to the door and Harry - who had broken the lock Voldemort had placed on him - took the opportunity and took a risk: raising his wand, he used a Finite Incantatum and the strength of his will to remove the barrier that had trapped Snape. He retrieved the professor's wand, and tossed it quickly into the potion master's hands. Snape wore a bemused expression, but swiftly turned his attention to Ron and Neville's fight. They were at a serious disadvantage: for all their training, they lacked the experience of the seasoned Death Eaters.

Ginny had meanwhile picked herself off the ground when the duelling began. For starters, her position made her too easy a target and placed her in the line of heavy fighting. Secondly, she had spied Bellatrix Lestrange stepping over the body of the stunned Malfoy, taking direct aim at Neville. Ginny physically elbowed her out of the way, and took on the mad woman before she could fir a single spell at Neville or her brother.

Harry drew himself up in front of Voldemort, engaging the wizard himself. He left no time for hesitation, pressing Voldemort into action so as to keep the focus off of Ron and Ginny long enough to give them a chance at escape. Voldemort parried the attack with skill, nostrils flaring at the constraints the situation placed upon him.

It was obvious that direct battle between their wands was not an option; Voldemort had not forgotten the encounter the night of his resurrection, when the golden cage had trapped him and Harry in a battle of wills that Harry had mastered. Thus Voldemort was unnecessarily cautious, hoping to avoid a repetition. The Dark Lord was further unnerved by his inability to use Ginny to finish Harry off with her wand. He strove to injure Harry instead, but Harry's training sessions with Bill, Remus, Tonks and Moody paid off: he was a difficult target, and well able to shield what he couldn't dodge.

A Death Eater fell somewhere behind him, and Harry became aware that Neville stood by, victorious in that particular duel. Harry called breathlessly over his shoulder, "Neville! Now!"

Neville turned towards Voldemort, flinching unconsciously. They both fired simultaneous curses at Voldemort, who waved them off easily long before the jets of light could make contact. Neville was knocked heavily off of his feet by Voldemort's reply, and he landed with a thud several feet back on the floor, unconscious.

For a moment, Harry almost lost hope: it became suddenly clear to him that the burden f the prophecy was his, and his alone. The off chance that Neville could be the one fated to bring down Voldemort was all just a pipe dream as the other boy lay prostrate on the rug and unable to respond. Then anger welled up in Harry, the sense of unfairness at his losses fuelling it.

Utilising all his hatred, Harry forced Voldemort to parry him just as Harry shot off a hex. Again, the two spell collided in midair, but the golden web from their related wands was diminished; expecting it, Voldemort held the web at bay by overpowering Harry. Beads of light on the beam that connected them were trickling towards the underage wizard, and all the power of his hatred was insufficient to force them back towards Voldemort. His wand began to vibrate, as Harry hung on for his life.

*

Luna and Hermione sat concentrating, their hands crushing one another's, but neither felt as if they were really making a difference.

The sound of Phoenix-song broke interrupted their thoughts. Into the Room of Requirement came a harried looking Fleur clutching an inconsolable baby Claude, and led by the resplendent Fawkes. The bird flew in circles about their heads, letting out rich and comforting notes.

Luna jumped to her feet, and hurried to embrace Fleur. With her inclusive hug, Claude's crying seemed to slow, and he quietened down significantly.

"I have been brought here: what has happened to Harry?" Fleur asked breathlessly.

"I don't know, but we need you now," replied Luna.

Fleur pulled a chair to face Hermione and Luna, and they all resumed their seats. Claude had miraculously let up his fussing, and was now making the hiccupping sounds that followed the intense cry. Luna took the tiny child into her lap, and he snuggled warmly against her. All three young women sat close together, touching: hand in hand or knee to knee, they formed an intimate circle.

"We must think hard about Harry," Fleur told them, and the other two nodded back.

They had been doing just that, but Fleur's unexpected presence seemed to calm them, and they reverted to their thoughts in a more relaxed, meditative manner. Fleur, too, was able to relax, the stress of a hysterical baby disappearing as Claude mellowed into a pre-sleep state of contentment. She placed one hand on her son's miniscule foot, and wondered if Harry could feel their presence. Her concern flowed through her fingertips, through Claude, and seemed to fill Luna and Hermione as well.

Luna began to hum a Mozart tune, partly out of comfort but also with the awareness that it could calm Harry when he was battling with pent-up energy or overwhelmed with sadness.

The three girls and the baby boy sat in harmony, their individual concern for Harry coursing like a common river between them. This time, both Luna and Hermione felt their efforts were making a difference; the blood protection drew off their mutual - if differing - love of him.

*

The wand vibrated steadily harder, when the sudden strains of a Mozart melody seemed to fill Harry's ears and steady his hand. He immediately thought of Luna, but his thoughts then jumped to the night of Claude Weasley's birth, and Hermione's explanation that too much love could be suffocating like the crimson mist that had enveloped him.

Though these thoughts occurred to him in the briefest flash, they were a balm for his anger, for his sense of injustice. He was no longer at Voldemort's mercy: Harry was cared for in ways Voldemort knew not, and it gave him the strength to stop the trickling beads of light, and to hold his wand with a firmer grip. Where Voldemort drew his strength from his calculating, dominating power, Harry drew his from the friendships that had survived even his darkest moments.

Unbeknownst to Harry, in the far off Hogwarts hospital wing, the weakened figure of Albus Dumbledore sat rigidly up in his bed, hands extended before him, palms up. The old Headmaster was oblivious to Minister Diggory's cries of concern or Madame Pomfrey's pleas that he lie back down. Channelling the little strength that remained in him, Dumbledore focussed all his power on the distant battle with Voldemort, on transmitting all the love he felt for the remarkable boy that was Harry, a son he had never had. Harry managed to force another bead of light along the beam towards Voldemort.

All around Harry, hard action exploded in battle. Snape had revived Neville, and relieved Ginny of her fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. Kicking Draco's body as she stepped past it, Ginny took on Narcissa Malfoy instead; the woman was powerful, but she lacked Ginny's swiftness that had been trained up with her other Quidditch reflexes. A hex of Narcissa's went astray and ricocheted onto ceiling, causing a large chunk of plaster to fall perilously close to Harry. Ron fought like a madman, desperately trying to make his way to Ginny's side. And the well-trained Neville managed to hold his own once he was out of reach of Voldemort's wand.

His blood surging with the love of his friends and the full of the moon, Harry began to turn the tables on Voldemort but the going was hard. For a moment, he gained the upper hand, forcing the light towards Voldemort, and causing his opponent's wand to quiver. But every bead of light cost him dearly; Voldemort had had two years since his resurrection to regain the strength of living, and to reassert the domination of his will on others.

And at the moment when Harry momentarily saw a ray of hope, the blood protection proved insufficient. His will faltered, and his strength failed him.

Harry's wand was jerked from his hand and flew away from him. An exclamation proclaimed Voldemort's triumph. The Dark Lord waved his wand at Harry, who doubled over screaming, the pain of Voldemort's Cruciatus curse searing his very bones relentlessly.

Voldemort lifted the curse, chuckling mirthlessly at Harry lay on the floor, his scar burning a raw red. He then applied the Cruciatus again, for a long time, and Harry knew that the death he was facing had to be better than the pain that Voldemort was inflicting on him.

The curse stopped again, and Harry pulled himself to his knees, his eyes swimming as he tried to look up at Voldemort. But Harry did not fear death: finally he would meet his parents, perhaps he might even find Sirius there on the other side. The thought of his godfather, his father and mother, gave Harry the strength to try to rise. One hand reached into his robes and clenched the edge of the small mirror where he had seen a tormented Sirius calling out to him, along with other victims of Voldemort's evil reign. The thought of meeting them caused Harry no distress, but he remembered how Voldemort had feared his victims when they had emerged from his wand, at the graveyard.

With his other hand, Harry tried to push himself upright, his protesting body twitching with the nervous aftershocks of the Cruciatus pain. Harry got to his feet under Voldemort's sadistically pleased gaze, but he stumbled and would have fallen. Then, unexpectedly, Ron was behind him and put his hand square into the small of Harry's back, propping him up in his attempt to stand.

Ron's touch coursed through Harry like a lifeline and, in a sudden burst of illumination, he realised what he had to do. Even as Voldemort shifted his gaze to the redhead with apprehension, Harry reached into his robe and pulled out his second wand. Ripping out the small mirror, Harry held it up in front of Voldemort, crying out, "Loquitur ab imo aevum!"

The face of the mirror crackled, and hazy figures crowded one another on its surface, calling out for payment; a few even cried out Tom's name in the demands for revenge. Voldemort's eyes widened in fear as he took in the accursed vision from beyond the depths of eternity.

Harry pointed his newer wand at the mirror, the powerful combination of Gryffin-hair wrapped around a Phoenix feather at its core. Still supported by Ron, he shouted with what remained of his strength, "Fulcarum Emotus Voldemort!"

A wind seemed to lash out at Voldemort, gathering him in its gale. Voldemort let out an unearthly shriek as it forced his spirit into the mirror, into the waiting clutches of the multitudes of victims that had gone through the veil. The shriek resonated through the room, halting all the surrounding action. Voldemort's shell of a body hung suspended where it stood for a moment, then collapsed as its fibres gave way and returned to their origin: a withered pile of ash and a trickle of blood on the floor.

And he was gone. But Harry felt no solace, for Voldemort's demise did not return Sirius to him, it did not reclaim his parents whose lives had been uselessly lost. There was no relief of closure, knowing that Voldemort's death could not compensate for his losses. And Harry whirled around in a burst of emotion, his own shriek of anger following fast on the heels of Voldemort's last cry; the mirror shattered into pieces as he smashed it against the brick hearth of the fireplace.

Silence reigned for a glorious moment. Harry felt his knees start to sag again, but the assembled Death Eaters seemed to waken from the shock, and turned towards him as a pack of dangerous and hungry pack animals. Ron, Neville, Ginny and Snape were forgotten as they moved in ominously on Harry.

He didn't even have the strength left to apparate, and he knew he certainly couldn't take on one Death Eater in battle at that point, let alone a room full. Harry knew he had to dominate them, beat them back with his will just as Voldemort had kept this dangerous group of wizards in submission to himself. With one last effort, Harry raised his wand and bellowed, "Morsmordre!"

Green sparks shot out of his wand and formed the Dark Mark, the evil skull with a snake protruding from its mouth; the symbol rose and expanded, escaping through the plaster-hole in the ceiling to hover above the room and, indeed, above the entire Riddle house.

The Death Eaters shrank back in shock, as simultaneous popping sounds announced the arrival of Order members throughout the room and the house. They confronted the stunned Death Eaters in force, though the sounds of apparition indicated that some several managed to get away. But Snape rounded on Harry, a look of respect or revulsion imprinted on his face.

As Harry had hoped, casting the Dark Mark had driven the Death Eaters away from him. He had defeated their master, and declared himself their superior. He turned his eyes around the room and was suddenly caught by the sight of Narcissa Malfoy and Walden Macnair casting simultaneous curses at Ginny. A burst of blue light mingled with a jet of green. Out of nowhere, Percy Weasley appeared and jumped in front of the spells, taking a direct hit in place of his sister. He slammed onto the floor and lay there crookedly, his mouth agape, and open eyes staring unseeingly upwards.

The impact of the sight barely sank in when Harry heard the maniacal laughter from behind him. "Oh, the little boy thinks he's so wonderful in battle, but we shall see! My Master's spirit lives on, where there are those willing to carry it!"

Harry turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange moving towards him, the mad glint in her eyes at odds with the obvious beauty she had once possessed. Harry tried to lift his wand to face her, but the sight of Percy spread-eagle on the floor augmented his painful fatigue after the repeated Cruciatus curses. He could not fight again; he could barely even move.

Bellatrix closed in, the gleam of craziness upon her. Then a curse collided with her back, and Bellatrix went down. Harry looked up to see Neville gazing down at the woman. The Neville before him bore no resemblance to the blundering, round-faced boy he had known for six years. Instead, Neville wore a look of cold hatred as he surveyed the torturer of his parents, unmoving at his feet.

The cruel image etched itself into Harry's mind, even as a pink-haired, dark-skinned Tonks rounded up another two Death Eaters, and Bill reached out to pull Ginny and Ron into a frantic embrace, averting their faces from Percy's body.

A flash of light brought a burst of colour right in front of Harry. He stared at the brilliant feathers of the majestic bird, and the bird called to him with a sense of urgency.

"Fawkes," murmured Harry in a state of numb shock. "Fawkes, you've come to take me home?"

And he reached up for the tail feathers of Dumbledore's resplendent bird. With a bright flash, the Phoenix took him away.