A/N

Betaed now – thank you very much Butterfly83.

The poll's result about Dumbledore's duel is very clear. 39 of the 61 votes have been in favour of …

I won't tell you now, but you'll see it very soon.

.

The Cleansing

.

Somewhere near Nottingham

.

"You should eat a bit more, Rasti. You're way too thin."

Henry Broden flinched as if biting into something very cold while having a toothache. It was bad enough to be here; it was worse to have to answer to the name of Rastaban – what kind of name was that anyhow? What kind of father would allow his own son to be called that? Certainly not a good English one. However, turning that awful name into an even worse nick name was stepping over the line. It made him bodily ill and caused him to look for a bucket. Perhaps I can vomit into that silly hat she had been wearing yesterday.

'Bella' put another glob of that 'delicious' meal on his plate before taking a seat all too close to him, giving him a saccharine smile and actually fluttering her eyelashes. The meal tasted even worse than it smelled, and that meant something with the fumes reaching his nose doing the mumbo in his stomach. Henry had already learned that 'Bella' didn't react very serenely to any veiled hints or open complaints about the taste of the meal – or lack of it. The last time he had to hastily convince her afterwards that it had only been an unsuccessful attempt at a joke and that he absolutely loved her food. Within seconds, her grimace of fury had turned into this mind-boggling sweetness. Henry wasn't certain whether the fury or smile were worse.

With every ounce of self-control Henry took a bite and forced a thankful smile on his face, ignoring the big grin of Healer Smythers, who was watching the whole scene with open amusement. 'Bella' mostly ignored the healer, something Smythers obviously enjoyed – far too much to Henry's liking. Now 'Bella' was watching him, winking, smiling, and – Henry was unable to suppress a shudder – blowing kisses in his direction. From an attractive woman or at least a mediocre looking one, he would have enjoyed such behaviour. 'Bella' regretfully was neither. She was – to use that old flattery – too short for her weight. She had absolutely no fashion sense, wearing clothes that were meant to accentuate a slimmer body and were 'hugging her curves' far too much.

'Rubenesque curves' he had called them as she asked him about her weight. He hadn't been a lady-killer for nothing, knew how to flatter, even if this lady would kill him one day. Thankful he accepted a glass of whiskey to get rid of that awful taste in his mouth, not even flinching when 'Bella' used the moment to touch his hand and even rubbed it for a while with her chubby fingers. He looked up for a second and instantly regretted it. Her face was all too close, podgy with a wobbly double chin, wrinkles that betrayed her age and lifestyle, and that mess of hair. It was curly, short and overall not meant to be worn like she did. It didn't help that she still tried every day to dye it black, something that got better on those days she allowed Healer Smythers to help her. It still looked completely unnatural and like she would be wearing a periwig.

And then there was her smell. Thankfully it was unnoticeable right now, with the fumes of the meal nauseating him. Bless small fortunes, Henry mused. Despite there being no cat around, the woman smelled like cats all the time, the smell mixing with that of a far too heavy perfume. The few times he had to allow her to hug him, it had nearly overwhelmed him.

You have to gain her trust, Healer Smythers had told him. It's our only way of escaping. Easier said than done, Henry silently growled. Why don't you try yourself?

Glaring at Smythers for a second, a gesture the healer reciprocated with a wicked smile, Henry turned around and lifted his refilled glass. "Thank you, sweetie-pie." The nickname got him widened eyes from Smythers and a dazzling smile from 'Bella'. Henry was very proud not to grimace.

Take this, Henry grumbled, gulping down the whiskey. Sometimes, he thought while looking down on his plate, you can't eat as much as you want to vomit.

.

Toledo – first of August – early morning

.

Waking up like this was something he could get used to. Not that Roxanne would be happy about it but Harry assumed that she was okay with the specific event, this day being a very special one for him. A scent of cinnamon prompted him to turn his head to the left, where the reason of his wonderful restful sleep was snuggling to his side. Expecting – quite correctly, he had to admit – that Harry would have issues falling asleep in the evening before the ritual, Daphne had decided to spend the night in his arms. Both were dressed, naturally, and nothing inappropriate had happened. Still, it had been very nice to have her in his arms, her head resting on his chest, sighing in her sleep from time to time.

"You're drooling," he teased, feeling that his girl was waking up.

"Am not," she disagreed, her eyes still closed. Daphne snuggled even more into him, her left hand starting to draw circles on his chest. "You're a very cosy pillow, you know?"

"And you should keep your hand above the waistline," he responded, drawing a deep breath. "Else I can't promise to behave."

She opened her eyes but only barely, looking like a sleepy, playful cat right now. "Who said I want you to behave?"

"Don't tease me," Harry scolded her. "I'm a hormonal boy after all." With a gentle gesture he pushed some curls out of her face. "And we wanted to wait until after your sixteenth birthday, you remember?"

"Did we really?" Daphne pouted. She continued to rub his chest, stroking the muscles there. Harry would never have the stature of a body builder, but she didn't complain. Daphne never really understood the hype about… what had been the name of that film star? Arnold something. No, she liked her Harry very much as he was.

"Liking what you feel?" Harry teased, pulling her closer, his body reacting to the touch of her breasts to his chest.

"Yes, our training program is doing you well – despite your complaints."

Harry had to admit she was right. Beside their spell and combat training, Roxanne had enforced a physical training over the past weeks. They had been riding several times, swimming at least once a week and Daphne had continued her gymnastic and yoga sessions, with Harry an unwilling participant – not because he disliked those session but because he liked to see Daphne in her gym suit all too much. He learned a number of positions and contortions he hadn't thought possible before and had to admit that this could be useful in a fight as well.

"In a few days, when… this," he wrinkled his nose, thinking about today's plans "is over, I would like to have an evening with Spanish food and a little music again." Since Carmen had introduced him to the opera connected to her name, Harry had developed a passion for the music of Georges Bizet. His fervour for Spanish food had already started a year ago when spending some time in Toledo. Both enthusiasms Daphne was eagerly willing to endure and share.

"Only if you'll sing for me," Daphne demanded, her inner Slytherin using the chance to get him to indulge her own passion about hearing his voice.

"I'll sing if you dig up your sketch-pad again," Harry entered the negotiation. Daphne frowned at the demand. While she really liked to draw, her urge to be perfect at everything she did battled with realizing the simple fact that she was only mediocre talented at drawing. She would never become a famous artist. It had caused her to store away her sketch-pad some months ago, to the endless disappointment of Harry and Roxanne.

"I'm not good at it," she pouted "nothing like you and your voice."

"I still like your works," Harry admitted with a smile. "And it relaxes you. And you like to draw, admit it."

Daphne frowned and shook her head. Harry's smile intensified and he started to shake her. "Admit it. You like drawing."

"Do not," she pouted.

"Do too," he turned around and started to tickle her, earning him a screech. Daphne tried to escape, Harry tried to keep her in the bed, all the while continuing to tickle her.

"Do not," she gasped, being very aware of her position and the thinness of her silken summer nightgown.

Neither teenager noticed the door opening, nor someone watching them for a while, a smile gracing her lips. Suddenly both teenagers stopped their shenanigans, as they noticed their observer.

"Am I disturbing anything?" Roxanne asked, her voice amused, and her left eyebrow raised.

"No," Harry gulped, trying to cover Daphne with the blanket, a gesture she commented with a raised eyebrow of her own. Really?

"Get ready," Roxanne ordered and left the room again, laughing only after she closed the door firmly.

Harry sank back into his pillow. "I'm so dead."

.

Ministry of Magic – a very cosy prison cell

.

Traitors, all of them.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was fuming and rightly so – in his own mind at least. It was him against the whole world. His whole life he had been fighting for the Greater Good. He had foregone a private life, had spent every single moment living for others, and never strayed from the path of light. Hundreds if not thousands of wizards and witches owed him their life. Dozens of Ministers, Unspeakables, teachers and researchers all over the world owed him their professional success. Not to forget his incredible work as a teacher and researcher on his own, like the twelve uses of dragon blood.

They should be on their knees thanking me, all of them, Albus mused while grinding his teeth.

There should be statues and paintings of me everywhere, places named after me and perhaps a little name's day party. Not that he actually demanded it. He was far too modest to do such a thing. However, it would have been the right and honourable thing to do so.

Instead they scolded him, chased him out of office and position. They called him names and dared to question his past actions. Amelia Bones should have been whipped for her impertinence and Minister Fudge tarred and feathered for his disloyalty. Didn't he owe his own position only to Albus' generosity? And now he dared to betray him, to complot with other ratfinks against him.

First his students and friends from the staff had betrayed him. Yeah, what kind of friends they were. Even Minerva and Filius had turned their back to him. Thinking about it, even more disturbing was the betrayal of Hagrid. He never thought that to be possible. Then the order had more or less disbanded and lost their trust in his judgement. The Ministry and even the DMLE turned against him, dared to question and prosecute him.

His family – he had known that they weren't really loyal. Had he not tried to protect his sister? But still his brother blamed him for her death and was barely able to stay polite around him. That blasted painting of his ancestor and its insults was only another nail in his coffin.

And now Fawkes – like Hagrid he had never expected something like this to happen. His own phoenix had betrayed him, made it impossible for him to step in when the last battle between Light and Darkness happened, forcing him to battle Augusta and kill her. He didn't like the idea of killing Augusta Longbottom. She was misguided and woefully short-sighted but had her heart in the right place. He would miss her.

Traitors, all of them.

With a deep sigh Albus stopped his roaming around his little cell and sat down. He had been there during his imprisonment – Harry. And he still had the scar. Not that it was possible to extract it without the boy dying. It was idle drivel to speak otherwise, the false hopes of the weak in mind and will. The boy still needed his help to see reason, to accept his fate and death. It was unfortunate but inevitable. We all will remember you, Harry, as our hero. But the hero has to die in the end.

Perhaps his imprisonment had a good side in the end. He would fight Augusta and win. Albus didn't even remember why he ever feared to lose that duel. He was the mightiest wizard of Britain, experienced beyond measure and in possession of the Elder Wand. He couldn't lose. Afterwards, many of his critics would forget everything that had happened in the past. They were sheep, all of them, following the strongest leader. His friends – the few that had stayed true to him – had told him about the movement to dispose of Fudge.

Perhaps I should use the next few days to think about the next Minister. Someone has to take Fudge's place and I will be occupied with more pressing matters. Albus nodded gravely to himself. Yes, let's think about that.

.

Toledo – first of August – late morning

.

"Here we are… back again." Harry gave Daphne a one-armed hug while he looked around in the small, plain room. Barely one year ago they had been waiting in that same room, preparing for another ritual albeit a very different one. Back then, they waited to get introduced into the Congregation. Today, they would attempt to get rid of his scar.

No, Harry corrected himself, remembering Hermione's pep talk from the day before. Don't even think like this. We won't 'attempt' to get rid of the scar. We will succeed with the task. Her index finger had drilled a little hole in his shoulder, accentuating each word with another poke. She had that look of determination in her eyes; that look that made you believe everything was possible. Harry knew she had done the same with Daphne the day before.

"I look a little stupid, don't you think?" Neville asked, his attempt to distract Harry from the task at hand a tad too obvious. Like the rest of them, he wore his traditional Congregation ritual robe, complete with embroideries and a loosely knotted belt.

"You look dashing," Hermione responded, smoothing down a few wrinkles, her hands staying on his broad shoulders for a moment.

"Not as much as you, Mione," Neville smiled. He was right, Harry noticed. Those robes had been created with women in mind. They looked far better in them. Perhaps a bit too good, he thought with a frown. In a few minutes, dozens of people would see Daphne in that form-fitting robe.

They had arrived at the small chapel near Toledo half an hour ago. Now the guests could be heard outside. Thirty-five of them would be there, completing their number to a grand total of thirty-nine, an important number in the Congregation. Thirteen, like five and seven, was an important magical number. Thirteen was often used for rituals. Three times thirteen was the number of witches and wizards leading the Congregation and it would be the totaal number of today's participants.

Hopefully they didn't come in vain. Hopefully everything will go as planned.

"We'll leave you alone for a moment," Neville offered, sensing Harry's mood swing. Hermione frowned and wanted to say something, but Neville stopped her by gently putting a finger on her lips and shaking his head. After a moment she responded with a small sigh and an even smaller nod. Before she allowed Neville to drag her away, she gave a curt but no less heartfelt hug to Daphne and placed a small kiss on Harry's cheek.

"They're good friends," Daphne commented their departure softly.

"The best you could wish for," Harry agreed.

"You're not so bad yourself," Daphne smiled thinly.

"That's good to hear," Harry whispered before pulling Daphne into an embrace. They were allowed to forget the world out there for a few more minutes, to concentrate only on each other.

.

"A cat, really?"

The elderly wizard was standing between Nel and Mother Sarah, watching the rest of the guests arriving at the chapel and gathering in small groups for little talks among friends. He knew more than half of them, had seen pictures of a few others, and it had been simple to guess a few identities more by their discerning appearance. This one 'guest' however was the first to cause a reaction – a reaction he hadn't even shown as the quartet of non-human guests arrived.

"It's a tomcat actually," an airy voice corrected him. He turned around, his eyes stopping on a pair of young witches. The left one, the one that had spoken to him, had light blond hair and a bit beady eyes that seemed to not really see him. She hummed something and waved towards the black and white cat, cancel that: tomcat. Did the tomcat just wink? The elderly wizard wondered.

"And he actually has a job to do in this ritual," the second witch glared. She was of Indian descent, one of the few participants not wearing a Congregation robe but a traditional Sari instead. With her long shiny black hair and those expressive dark eyes she was a real beauty – those eyes that were trying to prompt him to burst into flames right now. She pulled a notepad from a pocket, with all kind of numbers and diagrams covering it. While her blond friend started to glance around in a slightly distracted and bored way, the black haired witch searched through her notes for a moment until she found what she had been looking for.

"You're only here for the sheer numbers," she started to explain, ignorant of the soft looks from both Nel and Sarah. "The thirteen Congregation members participating only have an eight per cent part in the ritual, with you only counting for zero-point-five per cent. In comparison: Balou's presence boosts Daphne's leading part in the whole matter from an already domineering twenty-eight to a whopping thirty-nine per cent."

The elderly wizard looked around and got only shrugs from his two companions. Told you so, was the obvious meaning.

"I stand corrected, Miss Patil" he bowed slightly. She belonged to those participants he knew from pictures. Both girls had been asked to join the Congregation at a later date, after their seventeenth birthday. Both had agreed, as far as he knew.

Padma blushed a bit, luckily mostly hidden by her dark complexion. She only now realized she had spoken harshly to a wizard who was not only more than fifty years her senior, but apparently belonged to the leading circle of the Congregation. Not to forget: he was here, as everybody else, because he cared for Harry. That he knew her name as well, was only the icing on the cake of shame.

"I'm sorry," she hastily responded. "I didn't want to…"

"There is nothing to apologize," the wizard interrupted her. "Like it is the way of old men, I spoke before thinking. And a spirited mind willing to defend a friend – even a furry one – is nothing to be ashamed of. I see why Mother Joanna speaks highly of you… and your friend Miss Lovegood."

Luna appeared to be unfazed by the conversation and not really listening. Instead she linked arms with Padma before she had a chance for a response and dragged Padma towards her oldest friend who just arrived at the chapel. Padma threw an apologizing look towards her conversation partner but followed Luna willingly. There really was no chance not to comply. Luna was a force of nature on her own, really.

The trio watched the girls for a while, before the elderly wizard broke the silence, his voice laced with amusement. "So, zero-point-five per cent, that's my worth today."

Mother Sarah only shrugged. "I'm not much better. I only got zero-point-nine. Among the three of us, only Nel is noteworthy with her… how did she say?… with her whopping three per cent."

"In the end," Nel explained. "We're only here to support them morally. Harry actually only needs his three friends and that little tomcat. The inner ritual circle will be somewhat important to the success chance of the ritual, but most of the rest of us – he could do without. I however wouldn't miss this day for anything."

"Me neither."

.

Golden City

.

Ophelia dipped flannel into the Dittany water and continued to clean the wounds. She did it very carefully and thoroughly, trying not to cause too much pain but not to omit a single one. Alecto was lying there very still, unflinching, her face unmoving, only watching. The Dittany water belonged to a broad range of potions she used to help Alecto recover from her ordeal. Some of them were very expensive, not something Alecto could have afforded with the bulk of her wealth confiscated. Ophelia however had decided to exploit her brother's bad conscience and used some of his wealth. She had ordered Markus Flint to take the money and buy the potions in the magical quarters of Palermo and Venice. He had done a good job and seemed to be very happy about her thanks – a hug and a kiss to the cheek. If only all men were so easy to handle.

Drying Alecto's leg with a towel, she renewed the bandage, hoping that it would succeed in fading away the ugly scar. Most of the injuries were healing quite well, but a few of them would stay, this one – a bite leftover from Fenrir – being one of them. At least she isn't pregnant, Ophelia mused. It had been her greatest fear, but apparently Fenrir – while not being against bestowing her to other Werewolves as a reward – had cared for her not getting pregnant at those occasions. Fenrir himself had been obsessed with another… orifice. Ophelia shuddered. That wound would need some time to heal, physically but even more emotionally.

"Why are you doing this?"

Alecto's voice was far different to the one Ophelia knew from the past. It was broken, devoid hope and beaten. It was the voice of a woman not expecting anything anymore from life. I will have to watch her closely, Ophelia realized not for the first time. Suicide was a very real possibility. To be honest she didn't know her reasons for doing this, not all of them. She glanced towards Alecto's and saw only confusion there. Did she remember the first twenty-four hours after getting here? She wondered. Alecto hadn't really understood what happened, had actually expected to only be put in that bed – her sick-bed – to wait for another 'visitor'. One moment she had been lying very still, ready to endure whatever happened. The next she had attacked Ophelia, seeing only another tormentor in her. Being magically bound and sedated, she had broken down and sobbed in a heart-rending way, not calming down until Ophelia slipped into the bed and allowed the distressed woman to hug her like a child waking up from a nightmare would.

"I know what you have to do," Alecto continued after a long moment of silence. "Flint told me, about you sleeping with Dolohov."

Ophelia frowned. "He had no right to tell you." She sighed deeply and shrugged. "It was my own decision. And it was certainly not as uncomfortable…" She stopped herself, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry," she uttered hoarsely.

"It's alright," Alecto said despite it certainly wasn't. "I'll live," she claimed without much conviction.

"Yes, you will," Ophelia Nott nodded, meaning it actually. "You'll take your potion every month and you'll continue your life. Shit, even Lupin was able to, being a teacher and all. He has his own business now and according to rumours he likes it."

"You don't actually compare me to that…?" Alecto wanted to call him a weakling or a beast but felt that she was both now as well.

"No, you wouldn't like a life as a teacher or only surrounded with books," Ophelia smiled. The Alecto she knew was far too active for such a life style. She would have to wait and see how much she changed. "Still, it is a beacon of hope that you can have a fulfilling life. And perhaps in a few years… Snape is working on a cure."

"You think he'll succeed?" Alecto asked, not daring to hope. She had no energy to spare for hating the traitor, especially when his work could give her new hope.

"I won't lie and say yes, but if anybody can that's him. He gets funds from Black and Potter, I heard, and those healers Potter surrounds himself with from all over Europe are supporting him in his research." She didn't tell where she got her knowledge from and Alecto didn't ask. She wanted to believe, if not brave enough to do so, not now.

Ophelia continued to clean her wounds and treat her, both women staying silent, until Alecto broke the silence.

"I won't return to him," she whispered. "I'll die before I allow him to take me back."

Ophelia stared at her for a long time, thinking about how much the woman had changed from the crazy bitch she remembered. She was more like an injured doe, frightened and her heart racing.

"No, "she shook her head. "You won't return. And you won't die. He'll die before that happens." The women, equal in a number of points but so different in others, shared a moment with each other, a moment of understanding.

A Slytherin will kill for those he cares for.

.

Toledo – first of August – Noon

.

Someone clapped her hands loudly. "Take your places, please." The plea sounded far more like an order but that was no surprise. Roxanne was a loving mother and this ritual would decide the future of her children. No joking around, Messieurs.

One by one the small gatherings broke up and the participants walked to their positions. Thirty-nine positions had been marked with runes, small charms placed on them to tell everybody where they had to stand without having to ask. The soft shuffling was accompanied by the flatter of two pairs of wings as Mandragora and Hedwig left their places on the shoulders of the giantish Hagrid and ascended to the roof beams above. For a moment the owls enjoyed the wind currents above the gathering, the air elemental component of the ritual.

Hermione and Neville were already waiting at the centre of the whole arrangement, Hermione fondling Balou with her eyes closed while Neville used the moment to meditate and intensify his connection to the magical lines below. Crooks was present as well but resting at the edge of the room, so as not to disturb the ritual. It had been difficult enough to change the calculations to integrate Balou.

Hermione had no need to open her eyes to imagine vividly the arrangement of the ritual's participants. In the middle where the places of Harry and his friends, two by two around a spot that bore some runes especially constructed by Harry with the help of Nel and Monsieur Delacour, and charged to the rim with magical energy by Neville. It constituted the earth element today. Thirteen Fire braziers and seven water basins completed the quartet of elements.

Around the four friends those nine people would be standing in a circle, which were closest to them and most compatible to each other as well as to Harry. There had been long talks and even longer calculations to decide on the whole list. While a few people had been expected to belong to that circle from the start – nobody would have dared to question the places of Roxanne, Agatha or Ana – a few others had been a surprise.

The relation between Harry and Astoria had obviously changed so much since their first private meeting two years ago, that she now had a place side by side with her mother and grandmother. Carmen and Tonks were partly here because of their connection to Remus and Sirius, but it was clear how much they cared for the teenagers on their own as well. The last place belonged to Nel, naturally, as she would be assisting Daphne with leading of the ritual.

The outer circle was way larger and allowed places for twenty-six people, half of them high ranking members of the Congregation – the whole leading triumvirate was present today – while the rest consisted of thirteen close friends . While five of them were witches and easily integrable, the rest was not, their partly non-human and non-magical nature causing the Arithmancy team around Nel, Padma and Hermione to lose quite a few hairs and more than a few hours of sleep.

Hermione opened her eyes, her gaze lingering on each of the five witches for a moment.

Ginny, who had changed so much from the jealous little fan girl kicking the same tomcat that was now waiting in the middle of the room.

Luna, Susan and Padma; they had been staunch comrades for years, always supportive of Harry and his friends, never faltering in their friendship and loyalty.

And Minerva McGonagall; Hermione gulped and she had to suppress her tears. Luckily Neville didn't realize her emotions had nothing to do with today's ritual. They had just gotten her back, her old mentor; they had just been able to drag her away from Dumbledore's filthy claws only to…

No, Hermione shook her head. Don't think about it, not today.

"They look very excited," Neville mumbled into her ear, gesturing with his chin towards a pair of house-elves. Mother Joanna had been placed between them to keep them under control. Hermione nodded weakly, again fighting her tears. She knew exactly why Harry had been so adamant about inviting Ciddy, Dobby and the others. He wanted to have them around in this hour, wanted to see them one last time should anything bad happen.

Everything will be alright. Hermione heard her mother's voice in her mind, repeating the same words Hermione had told her a few weeks ago, waiting for her father's return. Needing some emotional support right now, she searched for her parents and found them watching her. Emma Granger's eyes sent her all her love while Dan nodded grimly.

Two house-elves, two Muggles, and two squibs – with Dudley and Petunia present as well, it was a very mixed gathering. And it meant Harry's whole family was present today. Not to speak of the half-giant Hagrid and Headmaster Flitwick, the half-goblin nearly as ecstatic as Dobby. Hermione knew how eager he was to have a long talk later with Daphne and her about the ritual's details. Hopefully all would go well and they would have the necessary patience.

She only missed Augusta and perhaps Amelia's presence, but the former was too agitated right now with the impending duel and Amelia simply had too much on her plate. They had to do without them.

Someone closed the heavy door and Hermione heard two people walk towards the middle. She identified Harry's steps – she would recognize them everywhere – and the far lighter ones of Daphne. Slowly, she turned around and awaited them. Harry looked calmer now, more composed than before. Daphne however seemed afraid, even terrified. She was obviously feeling the pressure mounting on her small shoulders and tensed as Harry sat down and pulled her into his arms. She only relaxed as Balou jumped into her lap, curling up like nothing special was going to happen and started to take a nap, purring loudly.

Like waves, Hermione saw the tension leave Daphne's body and mind. Everybody else noticed it too and a single elderly wizard heard a voice again in his mind: the tomcat actually has a job to do in this ritual.

There was no doubt about that anymore.

"Let us begin."

.

A web of hearts

Neville swayed back and forth slowly, his arms around Hermione, her head on his left shoulder, and the scent of her hairs filling his nostrils. There was a weird music in the air, supporting the singing voices in their chorus. He felt in his chest more than heard with his ears the Earth drumming. While the trumpets of the Air and the organ pipes of the Water at least seemed somewhat familiar, the hissing and sizzling of the Fire was completely foreign and still was in complete harmony with the other elements.

"Close your eyes." Nel's surprisingly thundering voice permeated the chamber.

They had been singing for more than an hour. There was the deep bass of Hagrid, the high squeaky voices of Ciddy and Dobby and sometimes he noticed one of the Pinegrew women especially missing the tune. It was no joke: they really couldn't sing and it seemed to run in the family. Still: the choir of the Congregation witches and wizards was a unified background and able to integrate the other so different voices, creating something astonishing, truly wonderful.

"Let yourself go to the mood of the hour. Loosen up and feel the atmosphere."

He felt the connections all around. There were those two incredible strong strings that connected Hermione to her parents. Muggle or not: nobody could deny the magic of love ever again after feeling this. A few steps apart he felt the nexus of Harry and Daphne, not unlike the one he formed with Hermione. Many string connected them to other participants all around. There were those of Petunia and Dudley, weaker than the Grangers but more similar than most would expect. While Petunia still had her moments around too much magic, it was undeniable that she had changed very much and now wholeheartedly accepted Harry as family.

"Don't hold back. We're among friends, among family. There is no I and they, there is only us."

Some auras felt familiar, some weird like those of the house-elves and Luna, and others simply foreign, but Neville still felt close to all of them. One by one they opened up. More and more strings appeared, connecting the different ritual participants to each other. There was Daphne's mind, leading them, erasing little faults in the web of strings, creating a wonderful and majestic mesh of magic. It glittered in his mind and brimmed with magic.

"Let the magic flow. Feel it, feel the power of this ritual, and feel the might of this assembly."

There was the little ping he had been waiting for, the little ping from Daphne that everything was ready for his part to begin. He knew that Hermione felt it as well and would act the same moment he did. For a second there was her smile in his heart, convincing him that everything would be alright. He hoped she felt it truly as well, as she had been nearly as tense and anxious as Daphne, despite her doing her best to calm her friends down. Neville reached out to the earth node in the middle of the room. Slowly he drew the magic to the surface, the magic that had been waiting to get used in the ritual.

"Trust us. Don't be afraid. Let it flow, let it touch you."

There was the first wave, it was a soothing stream of air, touching the minds and hearts and telling them to open to the next stage. With a small sigh, a sound reciprocated by Hermione and many others, Neville allowed Daphne's air to reach his heart and felt the doubts diminished.

Then came the second stage, the cleansing waters of Hermione. They rushed through the strings like they were water pipes. He nearly heard it burbling and gurgling, as it cleansed the magical strings, eased small nicks and straightened their course. They were ready for him.

And now it was time for him to act. It was like pulling a cork from a bottle, opening the way for the magic that was eager to spill out of its confining jar. It bubbled and darted into the mesh of lines connecting the participants, filled it in seconds and made it gleam with intensity of the magic.

"Allow your mind to flow. Leave your body behind. You're only mind and emotions now."

From one second to the next nothing was as it had been. It felt unreal and like a dream. The scenery was a bit foggy and Neville had the sense of floating. Hermione was the anchor in this like he was hers. A few steps away – or was it a hundred paces or even some miles? – he saw Harry and Daphne floating, alight with magic, seven flames dancing around them and dozens of magical lines touching them.

"Why are you here? What do you wish for? Why do you want Harry to succeed?"

Neville wasn't so naïve as to believe that everybody was here for Harry alone. Especially among the foreign Congregation members there were certainly other predominant reasons, and even among those close to Harry he expected varying degrees of hope to get one step nearer to a long-lasting peace with a successful ritual.

"{Let your love flow.}" This time it was Daphne's voice that filled their minds. Perhaps he should have been shocked to realize that she was able to use mind speech on such a huge gathering, but somehow he had expected it.

"{Show Harry how much he matters to you.}" It was certainly a bit sappy but it got the job done. Neville felt the floating magic change.

"{He is your comrade, your friend, your family. In this moment he is your everything.}" Neville was quite certain that his body was sobbing right now, not that he actually felt it as his mind and body started to separate. There was only this feeling of love as Daphne opened her heart and allowed everybody to see how she felt about Harry, baring her soul and keeping nothing back.

One by one the others followed her lead, opened their hearts and allowed their emotions to flow freely. There were differences, but similarities too. Most of the Congregation witches saw a comrade-in-arms in Harry, as could be expected. Mother Sarah however wasn't their emotional leader for nothing. Neville felt a strong stream of caring along her line, not for the boy-who-lived but for Harry, for the boy who deserved a future.

Never again. The sensation surprised him for a second but then he realized its origin. Never again was a feeling emanating from Minerva, Hagrid, Sirius and Remus. All four had this emotion around them of having failed Harry in the past. It was the strongest in Minerva unsurprisingly and she was sending forth everything that troubled her, baring her feelings nearly as much as Daphne did.

Neville felt torn between laughing and weeping as he sensed the emotions of Dobby and Ciddy wash over him. Especially Dobby was eager to be part of this, to scream into their faces and hearts how much he adored and loved "Great Wizard Harry Potter Master". Ciddy was equally concerned about Harry and her young Mistress, hoping for a happy end. How could anybody not care for a being filled with such loyalty, friendship and love?

Family – that was the dominating feeling he got from Roxanne, Ana, Astoria and Agatha but the Evans as well. Roxanne was certainly domineering this group but Agatha wasn't far behind. The sense from Dudley was surprisingly strong, what a change to his "Harry hunting" only a couple of years ago. Roxanne redirected some of her emotions towards Daphne for a moment, being rejoined by the other Pinegrew women only seconds later. They were there for her as well and for a moment Neville felt bad to have forgotten how important this ritual was for Daphne as well. He joined hands with Hermione and they sent their hug to their friend.

One by one the four girls joined them. Both Padma and Susan were equally close to Harry and Daphne, wanted to support the both of them. Friendship was there, sisterly feeling towards Daphne especially from Padma and small crushes towards Harry as well. They certainly weren't the only female students to have a little crush on the black-haired boy. Ginny was a bit different. There were still deeper feeling towards Harry and for a moment she hesitated to open up. Daphne however would know nothing of that. She pulled the redhead into their group of friends. You belong with us, was her saying.

The last one to join them was Luna. The feeling around her was different and a tad weird. It was like a little hare hiding between Harry and Daphne, like a small bluebell flame illuminating their small world, and spending them hope and joy. Sisters and brothers, that was how Luna felt towards the quartet, and Neville was stunned to notice the intensity of her feelings towards all of them, even him. She was their little sister and nobody should ever dare to hurt her.

"{It is time, Daphne.}"

.

Look with your heart

Hermione glanced around, watched as the nine members of the inner ritual circle turned around, away from Harry and Daphne to give them some emotional privacy, creating a screen around them. She felt Neville pulling her towards her friends until they stood to their left and right, their hands still interwoven. With every step she felt another wave of emotions emanating from them. In a few moments she would see their innermost heart and mind. She knew that nothing would be the same after this. Not even her parents would be this close to her.

"{Let it go, Harry.}" Daphne's voice whispered in the air. It was like a gentle hand caressing him. Step by step he loosened up. If Hermione thought she had seen him open-hearted before, she was taught better in these moments. She felt all the fear, the disappointments of the past, the signs of emotional abuse and his sense of not being worthy. However, she felt his positive feelings as well. His love for his family – birth and adopted alike. The friendship towards Sirius and Remus and the far deeper one towards Neville and her. There was his string connecting him to Ginny and Luna. There was no doubt anymore that he saw only sisters in them, but sisters he loved as much as Astoria and promised to always protect them.

"{Let it go, Harry. I'll never hurt you.}" Neville understood. The last barrier was that protecting Harry's heart from betrayal, disappointment and abandonment. Opening his heart to Daphne would also mean making himself vulnerable. Baring his emotions like this would give her a weapon to mortally wound him if she ever wished to.

"Don't!" As hissing voice suddenly whispered. Neville shuddered. There was so much evil in this voice. "She'll betray you like the others did. Don't forget what Ginny and Ron did."

Harry hesitated for a moment. Ginny hadn't been responsible for her doing and he felt more pity than anything else towards his former mate, but they had hurt him nonetheless. They hadn't been nearly as close to him. He hadn't been as vulnerable as he would be after opening his heart to Daphne.

"{Don't listen to it, mate,}" Neville's voice reached him. Harry felt Neville at his side, the steadiness and grounding his mate offered him. "{Look her in the eyes and you'll get your answer.}"

Harry did as he was bidden. Daphne did herself what she begged him to do, she opened her heart and mind and showed him all of her: her fears, her hopes and her dreams. There was no doubt whom she loved, whom she hated. Right in that moment she hated that small dark sliver in Harry's mind that spoke to his fears with all her passion. Yesterday, today and tomorrow she would love him all the same.

"{I trust her with your life and your heart, Harry,}" Hermione whispered. And so did Harry. Ignoring the continued ramblings of the sliver, pushing away the pictures of every betrayal in the past, how he realized Dumbledore's part in all of that and how "Mother Molly" showed her true self, he followed Daphne's example and opened up, letting down the last barrier. Tiny step by tiny step, the magic and mind of Harry and Daphne merged, shining brighter and brighter with every step, until Neville and Hermione had to close their eyes.

They are really close to each other, Neville mused. They were far closer than could be expected from sixteen-year-old teenagers that had only been together for 18 months. However, mind speech and all those hours opening up in preparation for this one day had lengthened those 18 months to a felt duration of 18 years at least. Nel had been right: even Hermione couldn't have done this, even she wasn't this close, this trusted on a complete primal level.

Following an impulse, Neville followed their lead and allowed his friends and especially Hermione to see, to have a look into his mind, see the scars from years of being treated like a squib, from years of belittlement and insults. There were, however, also the traces of the last two years, of growing up, of becoming more confident; traces of his friendship with Harry and Daphne and his love to Hermione. The endless joy after his mother waking up; the feeling as he was able to hug his father again; and the first time he noticed the pride in Augusta's eyes. These three were his love and his friends. He allowed them to see all.

Hermione wanted to follow him, she really did. But it was hard, so hard, to allow the walls to crumble. For more than a decade she had been hurt again and again by others, used for her intelligence and discarded afterwards by false friends as not worthy of their friendship. Belittled for her appearance and mocked for her thirst for knowledge, she had few friends in the past. Could she really do this?

"{But you have friends now, Mione.}" The four friends were shocked to hear Luna's voice. "{You have sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, and you have Neville. You'll never be alone again.}"

"{She's right, love,}" Neville whispered. He didn't want to force her but he knew that she would be sad and angry at herself for missing this moment, so he gently pulled her out of her shell, slowly pushing away the walls around her. Harry and Daphne only watched them, did nothing as this was Neville's moment, and only supported them with their smiles. Hermione gulped and slowly nodded, offering Neville a shaky smile. A first little step, another one, and one by one she joined her friends. And then there was only light, four blazing lights joined in friendship, ready to battle the sliver of darkness in their midst, ready to free Harry's soul from the taint and make him free.

"{We're ready.}"

.

The last Defence

The sliver of darkness was conspicuous. It glistened like rain drops and seemed to drip malevolence into their circle. Hermione heard its voice, still trying to convince Harry not to continue, not to trust them, and to protect himself from their influence. It was like a background noise, not really able to influence them but still annoying and distracting. There was another background noise as well, getting louder and louder now.

Purring, that's purring, she realized and looked down. She hadn't noticed but there was a fifth light among them as well, far smaller and far fainter than theirs but unmistakable. Hermione expected to see the form of a tomcat, like a small Patronus and certainly very similar to the alive Balou. Instead there were four animals interwoven, creating some kind of beautiful chimera. Eagle wings, a snake tail and the claws of a badger, all attached to the body of a small lion. The ritual, she realized. Daphne has merged the four aspects of Hogwarts to Balou in the second ritual.

Balou looked up and actually winked, before he turned to Harry and intensified the purring, overlaying the annoying ramblings of the darkness. Harry was totally calm now, his eyes locked with Daphne's. He nodded slowly, his smile trusting. Daphne raised her hands. A scalpel appeared in one of them and pliers in the other one. Harry didn't even flinch. He simply continued to smile and to look into Daphne's eyes while she put the scalpel onto his forehead. The darkness started to scream, the noise getting lost in the increased purring. Blood poured from the wound as Daphne started to cut the skin. It was hard to watch for Hermione and Neville. They could do nothing, only be there for them. This was the moment of Daphne and Harry.

Hermione gulped as Daphne neared the wound with the pliers. Several times its appearance changed, turned into the heated tongs of a smith and the wicked looking ones of a torturer. It was the last attempt of the darkness to prompt Harry to back away. It had no luck in that. Harry didn't move a single inch. Hermione paled and Neville gulped. It looked like Daphne would pull a tooth without anaesthesia. She was concentration only, weaving the pliers left and right until she got hold. Only as she started to pull, did Harry flinch and grimace. The pain had to be incredible. The sliver thread tried to hold tight, like sinking teeth and claws into Harry. Neville and Hermione did their best to keep him steady while Daphne increased her pull. Millimetre by millimetre it started to move, something akin to tar connecting it to the wound. And suddenly it was all gone. Harry staggered for a second, his eyes unable to focus.

Then there it was, the darkness, kept prisoner by Daphne's pliers. Harry was free at last.

.

Calling for help

"{You have to destroy it.}" Daphne whispered, her face telling of the exhaustion she felt. Scalpel and pliers were only an imagination, a reflexion of her real actions. It was her mind and magic that was doing all the work and it was clearly taxing to her.

The darkness screamed, tried to move away and escape its captor. It wanted to reach for Harry and be free from those damned pliers again. Daphne struggled to keep it under control. Harry nodded slowly, now able to think clearly again. He gestured towards the circle of flames, and they slowly descending, aiming towards his open palms.

"{What's that?}" Neville asked, being the first to notice the change. Thin tendrils came into existence, reached out for something far away.

"{Three?}" Hermione whispered. "{Three tendrils…}" Her eyes widened as an epiphany hit her. "{It's reaching for the other Horcruxes. It wants their help to defend itself.}" Her friends stared at her and one by one they nodded in agreement. They had to hurry, had to destroy it before the darkness succeeded in its attempt.

"{Strengthen Daphne, Neville.}" Harry shocked them by his sudden command. His friends only needed a blink of an eye to understand what he wanted to do, but before Hermione had a chance to stop him, Harry had already acted, trusting his mate to protect his love. And exactly that Neville did, ignoring the angry screams of Hermione, knowing that she only cursed Harry because of her concern. She knew as well as Daphne and Neville that it was in Harry's nature to act like this, to risk everything for those he cared about. Without a word, Neville directed a bigger amount of the energy towards Daphne, steadying her, and allowing her to keep control of the still struggling darkness.

Be swift, Harry, he wished silently. Be swift and return soon.

.

It's a long way to Tipperary

If the events so far had been a weird experience, this voyage was completely outside everything he had ever gone through. His mind had left his body behind and was following the tendrils – all three at the same time as he had no idea how long Daphne would be able to keep the darkness under control.

Three parts of his mind followed three tendrils through the ether, three landscapes rushed below, separating from each other more and more with every second. At the beginning all three tendrils looked very much alike but very soon he noticed the differences. One of them had a younger feeling about it and one tendril was stronger than the others. They had completely separate destinations in mind and not only the directions but also the distances seemed to be very different. Each of his mind slivers was accompanied by one of his flames while the other four were left behind, guarding his friends.

"{Everything is under control so far.}" He felt immense relief as Hermione's words reached him, something that didn't even change as she followed up with a string of blaspheme curses about his recklessness. Please never change, Mione, he smiled.

After a while he saw familiar land below one of his mind slivers. Could it be? Could they have been so blind? Scotland – that was Scotland below him, and not simply any part of the land but a part well-known, a region he had often crossed on his broom. A well-known forest, a lake he had often watched deep in thoughts, and a castle he regarded as home. Suddenly his movement stopped, as he saw it: the tendril was searching for its counterpart. Could he allow it? It would ease the search later but at a horrible risk for Daphne. He had no idea how much a completed connection would strengthen the darkness, if Daphne would still be able to keep it under control.

No, he couldn't risk it. They knew now that one Horcrux was hidden in Hogwarts. They would be able to find it, he had no doubt about it. It's time to end this part, Harry decided. Without waiting for another moment, he grabbed the flame flying at his side, turned it into a torch with a flick of his hand and set it against the tendril. It tried to dodge the flame and Harry had to grab it and press the torch against the slick feeling tendril. Instantly it started to rock back and forth like a bucking horse. It screamed as the flames touched it, clipped it apart. Within seconds it recoiled and diffused, mimicking vanishing fog.

I have to get back, Harry realized with slight panic. He raced towards the tendril and followed it, even faster than before. With every step another part of the tendril diffused, like the torch had induced a chain reaction. Was it moments, minutes or hours later? Harry didn't know. He only noticed that at least a part of his mind was back in his body.

Now he had to wait for the rest to arrive.

.

While Harry's mind was separated into three slivers following the three tendrils, his knowledge was not. At the same second his first sliver realized the danger of a connection to the destination, his other two thirds knew it as well.

Harry Two was following his tendril towards the south and a bit to the east. Very soon it reached the channel, crossed it and invaded France, only to continue its way towards Germany and further ahead. He felt how Harry One returned to the ritual chamber, knew the state of Daphne, trembling with exhaustion despite Neville's help. He didn't have much time left and he felt something dark waiting in front of him. While Hogwarts had been a secure destination, this place certainly wasn't. Rolling hills turned into a mountain range and he saw a beautiful river meandering through the land.

The tendril was pulsating stronger now and Harry Two knew that they were nearing its destination. He had to decide how long to continue. Harry One sent urgent messages as the two still existing tendrils were incredible taxing to Daphne. If he was too slow, a connection would be catastrophic. In the distance a city appeared, resting on both sides of the river. It shimmered in the afternoon sun and he was happy about the hours he had spent with the Pinegrew women watching pictures of possible travel destinations. He knew that sight: the Golden City – Prague.

The tendril he was following started to descend. It raced towards the city, got faster and faster, while a wall of darkness became visible in front of him. There was some kind of ward waiting, newly erected to hide something. It had to be the reason why Brychan hadn't been able to find it so far. He had to decide and so he did. Knowing that the second Horcrux, the strongest of the three, was hidden in Prague would help them. It was time to stop this danger.

With determination in his eyes, Harry set the second tendril aflame.

Time to return home.

.

Harry Three had the longest distance to pass by far. Not only had he crossed France and Spain but the Mediterranean as well. Now he was following it over northern Africa. Perhaps he would even pass that part of Sudan where Hermione had been with her parents, only weeks ago.

The tendril was getting slower and thinner slowly and Harry gradually doubted that it would be able to reach its destination. Perhaps the distance was too long. It was targeting the youngest and weakest Horcrux. He assumed it was the one Tom Riddle had created as he sacrificed Andy Tonks, on the wand that belonged to Hagrid decades ago. Slowly the tendril started to move erratically and Harry noticed another reason of its weird behaviour. There was something in the sky above the part of Dark Africa they had been flying towards. It was like a dome of dark clouds, unnatural and frightening.

And while he wasn't certain about the tendril finding its target, he felt no urge about experiencing what would happen should it touch those weird clouds.

Hogwarts, Prague and Central Africa – one should be easy to find, the second manageable at least. That Hafsa which Baron Pascal mentioned should be around here. I'll have to trust her to find the third. Moments before the tendril reached the cloud, moments before 'something' could happen, Harry stopped this part of his voyage as well.

He only had time to sigh once before his long travel back started.

I really hope I never have to do something like this again.

.

Cleansing Flames

Three!

Only now with his whole mind returned to his body, only now that he had a moment to breath and think, did Harry realize the one important bit of information he got: there had been three tendrils – not two nor four but exactly three. So there were 'only' three other Horcruxes hidden. They hadn't missed one in their research but had been correct so far. It wasn't an overwhelming information or an eye-opening epiphany but still it was soothing to get such a confirmation. The same applied to the locations. Hogwarts was a surprise, yes. And Central Africa was a very big area. Even Prague would be difficult to comb for such a small object – especially when they were forced to stay low-key while searching. Still his knowledge would help immensely.

"{Harry!}" He knew immediately it wasn't the first time Hermione was calling him. Her hissing his name was a big tell indeed.

He looked up and paled. Daphne looked far worse than expected. Neville was supporting her as much as possible, while his earth magic created some kind of cage around the darkness. A bubble of water was covering the cage and darkness, like some coolant. Earth and Water constituted two of the four elements they needed to destroy the darkness, Harry knew.

"{Stop day-dreaming; we have to end this.}" There was immense concern in her voice, far outweighing her anger and he had no trouble to understand her reasoning. Daphne was trembling, shuddering like a leaf in a strong wind, barely clinging to its twig. Sweat was not dripping but streaming down her face, her skin deathly pale with exhaustion. Her hands were shaking wildly and without Neville's support she certainly would have fainted. He hadn't returned one minute too soon.

Without another prod Harry nodded and concentrated on the fire. Slowly the seven flames formed into a single one, looking like a fiery snake eager to coil around the darkness. It crept towards its target, the water retracted for a moment to allow the fire to heat it up.

Earth to keep it prisoner!

Fire to burn it!

Water to freeze it!

Air to shatter it asunder!

Only it didn't, Harry realized with horror. It had been their plan, and it had been a simple but good one. Application of history and simply physics: his fire would heat up the darkness: Hermione's water would freeze it, turning it into a grey and crumbly matter. Hannibal had done the same 22 centuries ago with boulders blocking his path across the Alps. Neville's earth magic would keep it in place, unable to escape the barrage of fire and water. And then, at the right moment, Daphne would use her air as a blade to shatter it.

Only she was unable to do her part right now. He had been away for too long and she was exhausted beyond measure. His mind raced, pondering all kind of alternatives. Balou was here, but he was more fire than air, the lion still dominating the other parts. They hadn't prepared anything to give Daphne a magical boost, some kind of pepper-up potion. Perhaps his mother could help. She was air like Daphne but her elemental magic wasn't as strong as her daughter's and she never really tried to develop it. She couldn't help them, even if she was able to reach them at this place.

So: what now?

Suddenly a heart-rending mew pierced the chamber. Flabbergasted Harry looked down at Daphne's tomcat and saw his plea, Balou's wish to help his mistress. "{You can't do…}"

He interrupted his speech as he noticed 'something' descending from high above, answering to Balou's call. There was a fluttering in the air and he felt a draught of air. 'Someone' tried to reach them but that wasn't possible. They had long left behind the purely physical world. Thanks to the ritual and with the help of the whole assembly, Harry and his friends were 'somewhere' right now, somewhere in the borderland between this world and the next, between body and mind, emotion and magic. Not even Roxanne would have been able to cross that line, not now. Only someone incredible close to them, magically close, could be able to…

Again there was a flutter in the air and Harry felt a second draught of air, this time close and strong enough to stir his hair. He followed Balou's expecting glance towards the ceiling and saw something move there. It was very unclear in the beginning, no more than an irregular cloud. Slowly his sight became clearer, the edges more definite.

"Hedwig," Harry whispered in awe.

The snow-white owl descended, broke through the barrier separating the chamber from… wherever exactly Harry and his friends currently stayed. A mew from Balou and a barely audible "Hedwig," from a faintly smiling Daphne greeted her, the girl being only seconds away from fainting as Harry felt for a certainty.

The darkness was still incarcerated in Neville's earth. Fire and Water were still battling with its structure, keeping it warm and cold at the same time, turning it brittle and fragile. Hedwig didn't hesitate a single moment but aimed straight.

"SCREEECH!"

The stream of air hit the darkness like a fist, cut it like a dozen blades and shredded it into dozens of tiny bits floating to the ground, Harry's fire doing the rest. Barely a handful of dust remained.

"Meow!" Balou's mewling broke Harry's rapture and he jumped just in time to fetch Daphne who was slumping to the ground. He didn't notice the chamber around him returning to its former state, the stares of wonder from the assembly as he and his friends became clearly visible again. He had only eyes for the unconscious girl in his arms.

"She'll be alright again, Balou," he tried to soothe the tomcat who was watching them intently, trying to wake his mistress with butting his head against her and nibbling at her fingers. Harry looked up to his mother for confirmation. She had squeezed past Hermione and Neville – his mate's arm around her and Hedwig sitting on his shoulder – and cast some diagnosis spells. After some time – far too long in Harry's mind – she sighed and nodded; a tiny smile on her lips. "She's only exhausted and will need a few days of rest."

Harry felt relief but bad at the same time. If only he had returned sooner.

"We've done it, Harry. Daphne will recover and you are free at last. It's everything she wanted. Don't you dare to feel bad about it," Hermione told him and after a moment of thinking Harry nodded.

"You're right." Only now did he really grasp it. "We actually did it, didn't we?" He hugged the unconscious Daphne gently. "We really did it. I'm free again."

.

A/N

Phew! Nearly 11k words but the cleansing is done. And Harry has some important leads regarding the remaining Horcruxes.

Next chapter however will be about something different, a kind of side-adventure of Hafsa.

After that: Hogwarts and Crooks.