What? Two chapters in two days? I know! Heidi, you must be shocked! (If your name isn't Heidi and you're reading this . . . well, I wouldn't know, would I? Because no one else has been reviewing. : ( )

Well, yes! Two chapters in two days! And if you're lucky, chapter seven will be up tomorrow! How's that for efficient? I told you I may actually get this done before the 21st!

Please, forgive any small canon discrepancies. If they're there, they're probably unavoidable for plot reasons, and I apologize greatly. And hey. In sixteen days, this'll all be AU anyway. :)

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Got it? Good.


Promises Kept

Chapter Seven - The Battle Begins

Ron and Hermione stood, watching Harry leave, mentally preparing themselves. This was it. After a long silence, Ron said, "Hermione–" but she shook her head, cutting him off.

"We have to get ready," she said, glancing at him briefly before hurriedly Vanishing evidence of their campsite. Ron moved with her, helping. Hermione, though she managed not to show it, was as nervous and jumpy inside as she had ever been. She had to fight to keep her hands from trembling. This moment was what they had been preparing for all year, yet now that it was here, she wanted to do anything that meant she didn't have to face it.

When all trace of the campsite had been Vanished, Hermione felt Ron touch her wrist. "Hermione," he said again, and somehow his touch made her even more nervous than she had been. But before either of them could say anything more, they heard the pop of Apparition.

Without thinking, the two of them snapped into the best fighting position for their situation. Ron stood behind Hermione and slightly to right, wand up. Hermione was slightly crouched, wand also out. Quietly, Hermione muttered the Identification spell. It had been adapted since Remus had developed it. Now Ministry members would appear in yellow and Order members in orange. Ron and Hermione both relaxed slightly as the approaching figures were outlined in orange.

"It's Remus and his team," Hermione said as she and Ron dropped the fighting position.

"We got the summons," Remus called when he was in earshot. "Report."

Hermione did so, explaining what Harry had said, outlining the plan of action for the fight.

"No sign of the Death Eaters yet?" Remus asked.

"Not yet," Hermione said, with a shake of her head. "If these dreams are what Harry says, I'm guessing they're giving us a chance to get into position."

Remus nodded. "I want to take one of you with this team, and leave one here to wait and brief the Ministry team."

"I'll wait," Hermione said, and Ron nodded his consent.

"Start marking the perimeter around the forest," Ron said to Remus. "We need to keep the battle out of the trees. We have one last preparation, and then I'll be with your team."

Shouting orders to his fighters, Remus and the Order crew headed off to the right.

"Hermione," Ron said, and there was urgency in his voice now.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked, looking anxious with everything about to happen. He looked down at her, helpless almost. He still didn't know how to say it.

"Just . . . be safe, Hermione, please," he finally said. She nodded.

"You better get going," she said. Slowly, Ron nodded, and Hermione turned away to scan the horizon, filled with jumbling emotions she couldn't sort out.

She thought he had left, but then she heard him growl, "No," so low that she almost didn't catch it. The next thing she knew, he had grasped her by the wrist and spun her back to face him.

Her mouth opened to ask what was wrong, but she never got the words out because in the next moment, he had pulled her roughly to him and covered her mouth with his.

She stood, stunned, as he kissed her, hard and fierce. Then he pulled away, his eyes searching her face, full of worry and fear and other emotions. She stared up at him, numb.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he said, his voice thick. "Remember that. Whatever happens, just . . . don't forget that." And then he kissed her once more, hard, and was gone.

She staggered back a step when he released her, mind spinning. What had just happened? She had to say something, needed to say something, but he was gone. Slowly, the bewilderment left her, leaving in its place something much more solid. Her fear was ebbing away, too, as she stood there.

Those who knew her would have expected her to be angry with the redhead, and a part of her was, but she knew he hadn't kissed her and run away because he was too scared to face what came next. He had kissed her and left because that was all he had time for, and he had to do something.

She gripped her wand tighter, her face set now, determined. She would survive this, and she knew that Ron would, too. They would both survive. They had to. Now, now, finally, she had a purpose.

"I know what I'm fighting for," she whispered as another team of figures appeared on the horizon, these outlined in yellow. "I know what I'm fighting for," she said again, and then ran to meet the Ministry team.

"Identify yourself!" shouted the Head Auror of this team.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Potter's Team," she called, trying not to feel ridiculous about introducing herself that way. She knew how important the illusion was to the fighters. It wouldn't do for Ministry officials to know that three eighteen-year-olds were calling the shots.

She heard the muttered incantation that she knew would outline her in green."Auror McClane," he said, offering his name. Hermione nodded.

"Auror McClane, we need to get your people set up in pairs around the perimeter of the forest. Voldemort's forces will be arriving at any moment, and we need to be in position before they do. We must keep the battle from entering the trees at all costs. Disarm the Death Eaters in any way possible and confiscate the wands."

"And You-Know-Who?" the Auror asked.

"Harry Potter will lead the fight against him, drawing him away from our battle," Hermione said with confidence. The Auror nodded.

"More Ministry teams will be arriving periodically, and the FieldStations and Holding Stations are also scheduled for departure. You'll be fighting with us?" At Hermione's nod, he turned and began shouting orders to his team, when did as Remus' had and headed in pairs for the trees, Hermione with them.

A few moments after they were positioned, the first Death Eaters appeared.

And the battle began.


The dream stayed with Harry as he ran into the trees, following a worn path he'd only ever seen in a memory. Though awake, he saw flashes of pictures, the story of the night his parents had died continuing past dream's end.

. . . "Ama," whimpered the baby as he gently burrowed his way under his mother's limp arm to curl against her side, his face drenched in blood flowing freely from the cut on his forehead as the old stone house came falling down around them . . .

. . . The roar of a motorbike and the crunch of gravel as it landed and its rider jumped off and ran toward the ruined house. He pushed the door open against the pile of rubble that stood on the other side. With a cry of frustration, the man pushed with his shoulder and stumbled inside as the door gave way. In the ruined living room, the empty fireplace smoked gently. Two empty mugs lay side by side, chipped and cracked. And a limp hand was visible on the other side of the sofa, a gold wedding band glinting. "No," the man croaked . . .

. . . "Iri!" the baby shouted, trying to dive from the giant's hands to get to his Godfather. "Iri!" . . .

. . . "Please, Hagrid," Sirius Black croaked. "He's – he's my godson," came the helpless whisper. "I'm all he's got left." . . .

. . . He watched as the motorbike grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view. Then Sirius Black turned to the west, he eyes gleaming with malice. "Peter Pettigrew, you have crossed the wrong Black." . . .

Harry shook his head roughly to clear it of the jumble of visions. A dilapidated house stood in an overgrown clearing ahead. The Gaunt House. Harry turned and looked over his shoulder back the way he had come. What was happening? Who had arrived? Was Voldemort here yet? How much time was left?

Voices came now, each fading in and out and tumbling over each other inside his head.

. . . Of course it's that simple. The hardest problems have the simplest solutions. It's half of what makes them so difficult in the first place . . .

. . . Neither can live while the other survives . . .

. . . Ah, connections. They complicate everything, yet you'll never escape them, no matter how isolated you try to be . . .

. . . I'm making the sacrifice . . .

. . . It's not a question of the right answer, Peter. It's a question of the best answer. There will always be more than one right answer . . .

"Stop it!" Harry growled, shaking his head again. "I get it, okay?" And he did. As the visions and voices clicked into place, they cemented into what he had known somewhere all along. He knew how to defeat Voldemort, finally, now. He knew what he had to do. And so, he trusted that, since the dream senders, whoever they were, were being so emphatic, they had guaranteed him enough time to wrap up what needed to be wrapped up.

He conjured a quill and a piece of parchment, and, leaning over the wood pile at the back of the Gaunt House, he began to write. For a few long minutes, the only sound in the clearing was the scratching of Harry's quill. Then he folded the parchment, addressed it, and stuck it in his pocket. Vanishing the quill, he leaned against the wood pile, resigned to his fate, and waited.


The battle was on in full force. If Hermione had been able to break away from her duel to look around, she would have seen battling pairs as far as her vision reached.

But she was not able to break away from her battle. She was battling her third Death Eater, and they'd been at it for a while. At first glance, they seemed to be fairly evenly matched, but Hermione knew she was less skilled than her opponent. For some time now, she had merely been fighting for her life. Defensive spell after defensive spell, shield after shield, she couldn't find an opening to get in an attack of her own. It didn't help that the two confiscated wands in her robe pocket jabbed her in the side with every turn of her body. It also didn't help that she was getting tired.

She pushed the weariness away, even as the Death Eater forced her to take another step back toward the trees. Jet after jet of spell light came at her; time after time, she met it with her own wand. It seemed as if this would go on forever when she twisted hard to escape a curse, shoving a wand end into her stomach.

Distracted for the blink of an eye, it was unfortunately time enough for the Death Eater to get in one well placed hex. Hermione felt it hit her wand arm; her right side exploded with pain and her wand went flying. The next spell, the Cruciatus Curse, sent her crumpling to the ground, screaming.

She could hear the Death Eater laughing somewhere above her; the pain just went on and on. Dimly, she registered that her wand wasn't too far from her left hand, but she could not make herself move to get it. Even when the pain faded, the echoes of it sent her muscles into uncontrollable spasms. Slowly, cruelly, the Death Eater approached, and Hermione shut her eyes against the inevitable. She would never see Harry or her parents again, never see Remus or Ginny or any of her classmates. She would die here, and become just another who perished in service of the wizarding world. She would never get to tell Ron that she loved him.

As Ron's face bloomed into her mind, a spark of stubbornness flared up in her as well. If she was going to die, she would not lie on the ground and wait for it to happen. She wrenched her eyes open, prepared to die fighting, when she saw a spell come from the side, sending her Death Eater into a tree with a sickening crunch. Then Auror McClane was before her holding out a hand to help her up.

Awkwardly, she gave him her left, curling her right tightly to her stomach. "You all right?" he asked, breathing hard, nodding to her arm.

"I will be," she told him.

"You'll want to look at that first minute you get, girl," he told her. "Might be long –" But to Hermione's horror, he was cut off abruptly, a look of wide-eyed pain on his face. Shocked, she watched as he crumpled to the ground, revealing the Death Eater who had just killed him standing behind, grinning evilly. Without thinking, Hermione dived for her wand, and, scooping it up from the ground in one fluid motion, began to duel left-handed.


Percy heard the whispers flying around the upper levels of command. 'Death Eaters,' 'You Know Who,' 'battle,' and 'Harry Potter' reached his ears constantly. He tried to concentrate on his report, tried to do his job. His job did not involve fighting, and it was not concerned with He Who Must Not Be Named or with Harry Potter.

But he couldn't help but hear and he couldn't help but wonder and he couldn't help but know with a peculiar certainty that he was the only Weasley son left behind. His mind, as hard as he tried to focus it on his report, kept jumping back to his family. I don't have to worry about Mum, thank God, and she'll keep Ginny with her at the hospital, he thought at one point. He knew about the baby because you didn't work at the Ministry or have a brother like Bill without knowing when something that big happened. Bill's got to pull through this; he has experience, and he has a son to live for. Charlie will be at the scene in a flash – he and Dad will probably be in the first wave of Order members . . . Fred and George won't be far behind . . . and Ron's most likely been there with Harry from the beginning.

He hadn't spoken to his family since Scrimgeour had dragged him home that Christmas, but that didn't mean he didn't think about them all the time or worry about them. They were his family! He'd been close to going home and apologizing a few times, but . . . it had been so long now, and he knew the twins, Ron, and maybe even Ginny would probably never forgive him. The older members at least might see that he had done what he thought was right, but the younger ones would see only the betrayal.

And then there was the matter of that stubborn Gryffindor pride. The 'admit no wrong and never lose face' mentality. After all, an exchange of harsh words took two sides, and he wasn't the only one who'd believed the Ministry. After all, he worked there! Right alongside Fudge, who told him in no uncertain terms that The Dark Lord had not returned to power. And if you couldn't believe the Minister of Magic, who could you believe?

Your family? came that small, cruel voice in his head. You could have trusted them. Or Dumbledore.

My family made it crystal clear that they didn't believe I could earn a promotion on my own merit! They were so ready to believe me a spy, they couldn't even be happy for me! And Dumbledore was always unorthodox, was his counter.

But he didn't lie, was the response. He never lied. He withheld information, but he never lied. You yourself told Harry that the man was a genius. Did you only believe that because you wanted to be Head Boy?

Shaking his head forcefully, Percy tried once again to concentrate on the assignment in front of him, but it was no use. The whispers wouldn't stop, so neither would the worries. Finally, he pulled off his glasses and set them on his desk, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

"Perce?" asked his office partner. Percy shook his head.

"The tension in here is nearly tangible, Will, can't you feel it?" he asked. The other man looked at him curiously.

"What are you on about, Perce?"

"The battle," Percy said grimly. "It's starting. There're . . . whispers. You don't hear them?"

"I hear them," Will said. "But there have been whispers all along, Perce. It's another battle." Percy shook his head.

"No," he said. "It's not just another. This one's big. This is the battle, Will."

Will was silent for a moment. He'd been working with Percy for over a year, and he'd gotten to know him probably as well as anyone knew Percy. "You worried about your family?" he asked. Percy sighed.

"They're all out there fighting. All of them. And I'm sitting here."

"You're safe here," Will pointed out, but Percy shook his head.

"No, I'm a coward here. If our side wins, we'll be the ones who stayed safely away and then took all the credit. If their side wins, we'll be the ones who stayed safely away and let it happen." Will looked to his friend.

"Perce, they're not going to put you on a Field Unit; you're not trained to fight! Not everyone can be that kind of hero." But Percy was shaking his head.

"I need to know what's going on," he said, standing. He left the small office to find Scrimgeour. The man was once an Auror; if there was a battle against Voldemort, he'd be going, Minister of Magic or not.

Sure enough, Percy ran into him as he was leaving his office, barking orders. His office was alive with activity. Percy had to yell to get his attention.

"Sir!" he shouted. Finally, Scrimgeour turned to see him.

"What is it, Weasley?" he asked. "I haven't a lot of time."

"I - I need to know what's happening, sir. My family –"

Scrimgeour sighed. "Not a lot I can tell you, Weasley. Potter's team was at the site when He Who Must Not Be Named arrived. They called for backup from Lupin and the Order, who called for backup from the Auror Department. I don't know much more than that. I'm on my way to the Field now." He started walking, a clear dismissal, but Percy couldn't let it go at that. He followed the Minister down the long hall.

"Sir, if I could just –"

"Weasley, you will stay here," Scrimgeour said, leaving no room for argument.

"Sir, if I could just go find –"

"The answer is no," Scrimgeour said, looking over some papers an aid was showing him as he continued to stride down the hall. Frustrated now, Percy crossed in front of him, forcing him to stop.

"Sir, my family –"

"Is in no more danger than any of the others at the site," Scrimgeour told him in an effort to placate, but it only infuriated him.

"You mean in as much danger!" Percy corrected. "And there are more of us! Sir –"

"I am not sending you to the Field, Percy," Scrimgeour said firmly, moving past him. Percy followed.

"Let me go to my mother, then."

"No. You have a responsibility here," Scrimgeour said almost lazily.

"These are extraordinary circumstances!" Percy insisted, but Scrimgeour was having none of it. This time he stopped on his own and turned, his face stony.

"Weasley, you have a job to do. This Ministry does not stop because we are threatened. On the contrary, we need to be running smoothly now more than ever. You do not have leave to go anywhere. You have a responsibility, and I trust you will carry it out. Now, I must go. You, go back to your office and get back to work." Then he left Percy standing in the middle of the hall, fuming.

Watching the Minister walk away, Percy made a decision. He turned and stormed back to his office.

"Well?" Will asked when he came in.

"It's started and I'm going," Percy said, his face stony as he gathered things from his desk.

"He gave you permission?" Will asked in disbelief.

"No, in fact he forbade me to leave," Percy said, leaning over his desk and scribbling a note on a piece of parchment.

"And you're going anyway?" Will asked, shocked.

"Yes," said Percy, tapping the parchment with his wand so that it sealed seamlessly.

"How?"

"I'll find a way," he said, grabbing his cloak from where it rested.

"Perce," Will started, as if he was trying to form an argument to get Percy to stay. But Percy cut him off.

"I had to make a choice between my family and the Ministry once before, Will, and that choice resulted in me standing here today, the final battle commencing, not knowing whether or not my family is safe. Potter's team is at the scene, that's what he told me. Potter's team, it makes it sound like a band of highly trained professionals. That's what he wants people to believe."

"Isn't it?" Will asked, for that was how he had understood the mysterious Potter's Team. Percy gave a humorless laugh.

"No. Potter's team consists of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and my brother Ron. Three eighteen-year-old wizards. My family makes up half the Order. I will not be the brother who stays behind again, Will." Percy's gaze dared Will to challenge him.

Resigned, Will sighed. "Be safe, Perce," he said. Percy nodded.

"I'll try," he said, then left the office.

The corridors of the Ministry were alive with movement and tense energy. Percy strode purposefully toward the Apparition site in the Atrium, hearing an official looking wizard shouting, "There has been an Apparition Boundary imposed! None but authorized personnel are being given permission to Apparate in or out! We are in lock down, but the business of the Magical World is continuing! We have no news from the battle site, so do not ask!" Then he repeated himself.

Percy joined the throng of wizards all clamoring to get assigned to a team out. Percy knew that Will had been correct when he'd said that Percy would never be assigned to a Fighting Unit. That was why Percy had his back up plan ready. Approaching the official looking wizard, he held up the sealed scroll and said, "I was instructed to put this directly in the Minister's hands, sir."

"The Minister is already at the scene," came the reply.

"Hence, I am standing here talking to you instead of delivering it to his office," Percy said as witheringly as he could. "I believe it is of utmost urgency, and as I was instructed to deliver it personally, I will need to leave with the next available team."

The Official looked Percy up and down. "You trained in fighting?" he asked.

"I am not looking to fight; I am looking to find the Minister and do my job, which is, at the moment, seeing that this urgent message gets to Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour as quickly as possible. But feel free to hold me up here as long as you wish," Percy said, adopting his most officious air.

"No," the Official said. "But I'll send that message along with the Head Auror of the next team out. Surely you can trust him to deliver it sufficiently?"

After a moment's hesitation, Percy said, "Only if I put it in the Head Auror's hands. I will not be held responsible for this message getting lost."

So he was shuffled off to one side as the team assembled. He hoped the Head Auror of the next team was someone he knew. Then he might be able to hop along anyway. He was in luck. Auror Dawlish was heading for the platform. Percy watched the Official tell something to Dawlish and point in Percy's direction. Dawlish came over to him.

"Weasley. I'm told you have a message for me to deliver to the Minister?" he asked briskly.

"Dawlish, I need to come," Percy whispered urgently. Dawlish looked at him, frowning.

"It's in safe hands, Weasley," he said.

"No, it's not about the message; I need to be there, at the Field. My family –" But Dawlish was shaking his head.

"Absolutely not, Weasley. You stay here where you're safe. Let your family take care of themselves. The message, please." Resigned, Percy handed it over to him and watched the team disappear.

Damn it! he thought, wondering what to do next. An earlier Percy might have given up and headed back to his desk, but now he couldn't. He couldn't. And so he asked himself something that he had never asked himself before. What would Fred and George do?

They wouldn't stand around here looking lost. They wouldn't give up. They wouldn't admit defeat. They'd be forming another plan. They'd be doing something.

Percy let his mind fly back to an order that had passed through his office some time ago. The Ministry had purchased a large amount of products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Percy had processed the order. What did we buy from them? He tried to remember. Darkness powder . . . Shield Hats . . . Extendable Ears – That's it!

Eavesdropping. It was that simple. Purposefully, he strode through the Atrium, and just let the voices filter to him.

" . . . no, no, Potter's team is fully trained, and has everything under control, I assure you . . ."

" . . . apparently the Death Eaters have some new curse. It's pretty nasty, and we don't have a counter for it yet . . ."

" . . . why waste your time? Plenty to do here, in any case . . ."

" . . . Level Three needs volunteers with fighter training to go to the Field. They're going to be working with the FieldWizards on site. You know, the special Healers. Apparently, they need as many hands as they can find . . ."

Percy took off for the lifts and headed to Level Three. If the Department of Magical Catastrophes was looking for as many able-bodied workers as they could find, surely they wouldn't turn him away. His training in fighting was only what every Ministry employee was required to learn, but he did know how to duel. And if he was assigned to one of their teams, hopefully no one would discover until it was too late that he had been ordered to stay at the Ministry by three high ranking officials, one of them the Minister himself.

He was breaking rules and defying orders, but he was past caring. This was an emergency; surely he would be forgiven these transgressions. And if he wasn't, well, if there still was a Ministry after all this over, and he was fired from it, he would just find a new job, a better one. For now, he was doing the right thing.


Harry was leaning against the woodpile casually when Voldemort appeared in the clearing. Apparently, the Apparition boundaries that Old Marvolo Gaunt would have kept in place had long since faded away.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered.

"Tom," Harry said, inclining his head. Voldemort's lip curled menacingly at the name.

"An interesting site for a battle," Voldemort said. Harry shrugged.

"I thought, being so close to two places so important to you, it would make you feel more at home." Voldemort's sneer deepened.

"Taunting me now, Potter? Do you really think that to be wise?" And now Harry straightened.

"We will end this, tonight, Tom," he said simply.

"I have no doubt," Voldemort replied. "Are you prepared to face death, Harry Potter?"

"I believe that question pertains more to you, Tom," Harry said, still keeping casual, still maintaining that necessary air of calm as he moved a few steps around the outside of the clearing. "You are, after all, the one who has been cheating death the longest. I daresay it has a great interest in you." Voldemort snarled and pulled out his wand.

"You have been a nuisance to me for far too long, Harry Potter," he said. "You are right to say that this shall end tonight. I shall finish you before this night is done, and no more will I be opposed."

"You will always be opposed, Tom," Harry countered. "But you will not be leaving this clearing alive today." He fixed the dark wizard with a level and steely gaze. "You made sure of that long ago." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "You heard what I said," Harry told him. "You will not be leaving this clearing alive, Tom, but your end will come not by my hand, but by your own actions."


"Ron!" Remus shouted, yelling over the spell cries and dying screams. Ron ran to meet the older man. Remus was bleeding from a shallow gash on his cheek, but otherwise was unharmed. "Word's spreading around the battlefield. The Death Eaters have a new curse – a manipulation of the Conjunctivitus Curse. Once it hits your open eye, it blinds you!" Remus glanced around them for any sign of approaching enemies. Seeing none, he went on. "If it hits you in the face and your eyes are closed, it'll just lie dormant until you open them. Watch out for it!" Ron nodded.

So far, he had managed to escape serious injury, but he knew that couldn't be true for many others. "Remus, how fares the battle?" he asked. "Whose favor is it in right now?" Remus shook his head.

"I've no idea, Ron. Has there been any sign of Harry?"

"He was planning to confront Voldemort back in the woods, near the old Gaunt House. I don't know more than that." Remus nodded.

"All right." And the two men parted company, rushing to help where they were needed.

Up ahead, Ron saw a lone, unmarked figure sneaking toward the trees. "Stupefy!" he shouted, but the man was too quick. He whirled, and the spell missed him. Then he turned and engaged Ron in battle.

But Ron knew how to get the upper hand in dueling. He used simple spells, ones the Death Eaters had a tendency to underestimate, but ones that Harry had taught him could be deadly at the right time in the right combinations.

The duel raged fiercely, until Ron had the man under his wand, about to deal the final blow, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a figure approaching the two of them. His eyes widened in shock when he realized who it was.

But his distraction cost him. The Death Eater under his wand managed to shout a single incantation. "Conjunct Flammoria!"

Instinctively, Ron shut his eyes.


If your name is Heidi, I await your review! If your name isn't Heidi, I'll be even more thrilled to get yours!