Dust hung heavy in the air, stinging eyes and throats alike. Harry scrubbed furiously at his glasses, achieved nothing more than smearing a grimy pink stain across the lens. His shirt was soaked through with blood. Some of it his own.

'Scourgify,' Hermione whispered. Harry flashed her a tired smile.

A half-hour in and already it felt like they had been fighting for a lifetime. Muscles were weary, breath was short. Blood coated everything. Harry had never seen so much.

Behind them furled lazy tendrils from the smoking ruins of the Wooden Bridge. Neville had barely made the leap before it had gone up in a rush of flame. Voldemort's attack on the defences had taken them all by surprise; they hadn't been ready. Seamus had been the one to set off the explosion. He'd still been down there, Charming charges into the supports, when he had seen the attack.

A friend as long as Harry had known him, a fierce spirit, and a brave Gryffindor. Gone, in exchange for a single courtyard. Harry felt the weight of that price settle upon his shoulders. Instinctively, Ron was there beside him. Silent, standing tall, offering the comfort of his presence. His proud figure made him seem indomitable. Harry would need him to be. One of them needed to be.

Footsteps cut through the clamour, approaching the Trio. All three levelled wands, found even footing. Harry crouched low behind a slab of masonry, Hermione guarded the exit to their left. Ron took point.

Lavender Brown tore through the entranceway, kicking up a cloud of dust at her feet. Justin Finch-Fletchley was hot on her heels. Two eyes met three, surprised expressions on the newcomers' faces. Wands were lowered for a heartbeat-

Before an explosion at Justin's feet sent his body sprawling, and a hulking grey mass burst forth from the smoke, crashing into Lavender in a bone-shattering collision. Blood fanned, and a feeble moan was cut short as lambent eyes fixed on the three.

'Greyback,' hissed Ron. 'Run!'

The cool night air on Harry's face was almost enough to draw forth his first real smile in over forty-nine days. Almost. He wore the buttons on his filth-stained shirt loose, felt the first breeze on his skin for the first time in over a month.

They had left the cave at sundown, Apparated to a place unknown, and walked for three hours and counting in the gathering dark. Neville and Ernie led the party. A small contingent had been awaiting them, and fanned out upon arrival. They had tried to jog the distance, but Harry and Ron could barely keep the pace up for over a minute, and so now they walked in silence.

The cooling sweat caused Harry to shiver. They paused at the base of a low rise. Around them, at a single gesture from Neville, their escort of wraiths froze, wordless. They folded into the shadows, silent.

'She's down there,' Neville began. 'Under guard-'

He saw Harry's face twitch in disdain.

'It's the only way, Harry. All you need to do is be there. Be there, and Acquiesce. The rest will be up to her.'

Harry stared at his companions defiantly. What if he didn't? What if he refused? Surely they wouldn't stop him fleeing. He could run and take himself away from it all. There would be no one to find him, no one to beg him for the honour of adding their death to the chain that hung so heavy around his neck. His mistakes then would be his own-

'C'mon Harry,' Ron urged softly. 'The sooner we take care of this, the sooner we can get her back.'

The hurt hadn't left Ron's eyes in forty-nine days. Of course Harry couldn't flee. He dreamed of a world where his mistakes meant nothing, yet couldn't remedy his most grievous one of all.

He nodded in silence. Another hand movement, and the wraiths ascended. They crested the rise and Harry couldn't have found words to speak even if he had wanted.

The sprawling, ivy-draped mass of a run-down estate house crouched low in the small valley before them. Yawning darkness filled windows, and vines were the only roofing for much of the building. Running water sounded somewhere in the distance.

Gathered by wandlight, before the threshold of the house, were no fewer than fifty figures. Cloaked, from this distance little more than smudges of deeper black against the poorly lit landscape. Ernie let out a jet of green light from his wand. All around the valley, answering bursts of gold responded from no fewer than twenty positions. Upon the final signal, Ernie gestured the group forward, and they descended into the valley.

Harry saw the tears in Ron's eyes, as they hungrily searched the crowd for familiar faces.

'How- how many?' Harry asked a question that had haunted him from the moment they had fled the Fall.

'This is only a few,' Neville replied. 'We're dug in elsewhere. Trick is finding somewhere away from the Burrowers. We've been rooting them out from this valley for the past fortnight. Realigned a few. Removed a few more.'

Harry scowled openly. They continued on in silence.

Ron's face hardened as they joined the crowd, and the faces became apparent. Few enough were familiar. They passed through a double-perimeter, one facing outwards, another in. A single witch stood at the centre of the inner ring.

'Where is everyone,' Ron whispered.

'Safe, for the most part. We couldn't move too many who were close to you, lest we garner unwanted attention. Of what remains, those here are the ones we could trust completely. We don't know how many Voldemort has on our side.'

The wraiths melded into the ranks with their peers. Guarded gazes followed the four as they approached the inner ring, and the lone witch. Lambent eyes watched silently from within deep hoods.

'Harry Potter.'

The witch turned her gaze upon him, and Harry shuddered. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her mouth hung open haphazardly, displaying a row of filed teeth. Her skin was yellow and taught like stretched parchment. She was missing her left arm from the shoulder down, and the sleeve of her tattered robe hung mockingly limp.

'She's been Imperiused,' Harry hissed, rounding on Neville.

'We had to-'

'Harry Potter! Time is of the essence.'

Harry shot Neville a last burning look, and turned to the witch.

'Your hands, Harry Potter. Both of them in my own.'

Harry did as asked. Her skin was rough and calloused.

'Secret Keeper.'

Ron stepped forward.

'Actually, lad,' Ernie interjected. 'Are you sure that's the best idea?'

'He's the only one I can trust,' Harry growled. The harsh words added one more injury to the two boys. He regretted them instantly.

'The target on Ron's head is as big as your own. They want him as bad as they wanted…'

'Hermione,' Ron breathed.

'Even the Burrowers are looking. Anything for a bit of money, a spot of safety. We've brought others we can trust. Let someone else bear this burden Harry.'

'And make the same mistake as my parents?'

Neville flinched visibly, but he gestured, and a dozen faces materialised from the inner ring.

Terry Boot stepped forward, with a pronounced limp and a steely smile, as did a grimy Penelope Clearwater and a stoic Roger Davies. The bright spark in Dennis Creevey's eyes was well and truly stamped out, but he did not hesitate in stepping forward. Harry gasped as Lavender Brown joined them, her movements stiff, her throat covered beneath a thick layer of bandages. The group grew, and they were all familiar faces. Romilda Vane had lost an eye, but still managed to favour Harry with a smile. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones strode forward, arm in arm, ahead of Dean Thomas and a handful of others.

Harry looked at them all. Silently, he begged them to back down. This was a death sentence. How could he ask any of them to do it? How could they be so ready to take it on? Surely they didn't understand the risks. He received nothing but fiery defiance from each pair of eyes.

'Very well,' Harry growled. They deliberated for a moment, the dozen and Ron waiting in silence. Finally, Harry decided.

'One hand,' the witch drawled. Harry obliged.

She gestured again, and Harry took both of the Secret Keeper's hands in his own.

He closed his eyes, as the feeling of a strong wind buffeted him. It gathered in intensity, until it felt as if it were tugging at more than his clothes, at his very person. Both of his hands held tight to his companions'. From somewhere, a faint, malevolent screaming began to sound, the noise caught and snagged on the imaginary wind. It grew in pitch and volume, until it washed over him, replacing the gale until all he could hear was the noise.

Suddenly, heat. And a scream that was very real. He opened his eyes and cried out, as the witch before him became engulfed in flames. Thick, black smoke poured off her body. She flung her single arm wide, and looked Harry directly in the eye as she was consumed, whole.

The heat and the choking smoke forced Harry back, he released the hand of his Secret Keeper, who melded once more into the crowd.

'Did it… work?' Neville asked, tentatively.

Without making eye contact, Harry and the Secret Keeper both nodded, they had both felt the weight settle upon them. Harry rounded on Neville once more, but Ernie and Ron were there, placing themselves between them.

'Not here,' Ernie growled.

'C'mon.'

Ron dragged Harry and Neville around behind the house, out of view of the onlookers. They didn't need to see this, not now, at the very verge of triumph.

Harry wound up and cracked Neville as hard as he could across the jaw. Neville staggered, but remained upright. Harry came in again, landing blows on his body, his face, his chest. Throughout it all, Neville stood, stoic. Giving only a series of grunts as response.

'You fucking killed her!' Harry roared, tears stinging his eyes. 'You knew!'

Ron held Harry back, though it was unnecessary now. Neville wiped a smear of blood from a cut lip before replying.

'This is what getting you out of there at all cost looks like, Harry. We had to take risks. We had to do some things we weren't happy about.'

'She was just a Burrower, all she wanted was to survive!'

'If all it takes for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing, then they're just as bad as the Death Eaters,' Ernie snarled.

'We didn't know that would happen. Hannah looked it up, no-one's ever tried to Imperius someone into casting a Fidelius charm before.'

'Hermione would know,' Ron whispered.

'And now we can start planning how to break her out,' Neville countered.

'If this has even worked.' Harry looked at Ron, 'and if I've learned anything from the mistakes of my parents.'

'You said yourself that you felt it working.' The first hint of nervousness had crept into Ernie's voice.

'Aye, it worked. For now. But Dark Magic has a way of eating away at things, of undermining and corroding the fabric of anything it comes into contact with. It dissolves spells into nothingness. Who's to say it won't do the same here?'

'The Fidelius is a powerful Charm,' Neville countered. 'Chained to the very souls of those who it protects, and those who Keep the Secret.'

'Then you had better hope that it overpowers your Dark Magic, Neville. Or else you might just have killed us both.'

He stalked away from the small gathering, back out to face the gathered crowd. As he rounded the corner he saw them, much to his shame, all salute as one. As the first rays of dawn crested forth above the distant hills, he surveyed the house that would be their new castle. And the breeze dragged gentle fingers across his bare skin.