A/N 28-11-14: Okay, so we're about to start Chapter 7. Seeing as it's almost as long as THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE (no, I'm not joking) I decided to divide it up into manageable chunks, and the most logical splits lead to it becoming five whole parts. This means the weekly updates will be slightly shorter than you're used to, but hopefully no less enjoyable. It also means we should finish the story around the Christmas and New Year period, which I think is quite nice :-)

Chapter Seven – Part One

Lights

xxx

I had a way then, losing it all on my own

I had a heart then, but the queen has been overthrown

And I'm not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat

And I'm not keeping now, the strength I need to push me

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone

You shine it when I'm alone

And so I tell myself that I'll be strong

And dreaming when they're gone

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home

Calling, calling, calling home

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone

You shine it when I'm alone

Home

xxx

Ellie Goulding

xxx

Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady, but panic was welling up in her throat, and she was shaking so badly from shock, cold and illness she was struggling to keep herself inside the top of the metal slide.

Terry was a zombie. They'd got him whilst he'd been protecting her. This was her fault.

She bit her lip and tried to swallow her tears. Was he scared, did he know what was happening to him? She'd had his wand, he wouldn't have been able to protect himself. A wave of fury washed over Hermione as she cursed herself again for losing her wand in the rubble of the Potter's kitchen. Everything would be been so much easier if only she hadn't been so stupid.

She shook her head and tried to calm down. What was done was done, she couldn't help Terry or any of the other townspeople by wallowing in 'what ifs'. The fact was she did have his wand, and it may not work exactly how she wanted for her, but it was better than nothing. Sarah was still out there too, and hopefully she would find the Horcrux then the two of them could work together to break the curse. And most importantly, Terry's sacrifice had been worth it, because Hermione had found the person casting the zombie spell on the town.

She just needed to get through the zombie hoard and half a dozen Death Eaters to get to him. Or her, she couldn't really tell from the glimpse she'd got from before.

She figured if she just waited them out, the Death Eaters would leave and then she could just sneak by the zombies. The only problem was her limbs were going numb and her vision was swimming in and out of focus. She rested her hot cheek on the cold metal of the slide, and shuddered. Rainwater was pounding down outside and a miniature stream was running along the slide, pouring onto the ground below and seeping into Hermione's clothes as it went. She barely noticed though, her clothes were so sodden already.

In a minute, she told herself. She would get going in a minute.

The climbing frame vibrated, and Hermione jerked awake, not really aware she'd been nodding off. A movement below caught her eye, and she angled her body so she could see the base of the slide.

A pair of white eyes were looking up at her.

She let out a involuntary strangled cry but managed not to lose her grip. "Shoo," she whispered breathlessly at the young girl zombie as she gawped up at Hermione. "Go away, please."

The zombie girl moaned, loudly. She pawed at the metal tube, banging her shins against the lip of the slide. "No," said Hermione desperately. "No, no, just go away, they'll hear you."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Hermione really did lose her grip at the sound of another voice behind her, but a large and calloused hand snatched the scruff of her neck, grabbing clothes and hair to haul her back up onto the main level of the climbing frame.

She cried out in pain as the hand forced all her body weight onto her hair and her top, but in a moment she was standing on her feet, face to face with the larger Death Eater she'd seen before, with the mop of brown hair.

"Found a live one!" he bellowed back to the others, who to Hermione's dismay were all still clustered around where she had seen the spell caster, zombies milling around them.

"How marvellous," said Barty Crouch Jr, smiling as if the man had announced he'd brought sweets for the whole group. "Bring her down to me, we can have a little chat."

Hermione squirmed but the brown-haired man wrapped his fingers around her arm like a vice and steered her down the steps of the climbing frame.

If she thought she'd been panicked before, it was nothing to how she was feeling now. This was it, the game was up. They would either zombify her, take her prisoner, or…if she was really honest…just kill her. She'd not only failed herself, but she'd failed Terry, Sarah, the other Harry and his own town and family. It would be an annihilation of a whole community.

"Hello little girl," said Crouch as the big man came to a halt and Hermione wrenched free of his grip. "Was that you making all that racket? Are you hiding from the monsters?"

The other Death Eaters had their wands trained on her, otherwise she would have attempted to use Terry's to blast that smug look off his face. "I was trying to save all these innocent people," she spat out instead, her indignation outweighing her fear. "Your curse is killing them, you know that right?"

Crouch laughed, amused with her, but the other Death Eaters bristled. "You're a witch," said Crouch, delighted. "Not pureblood though, otherwise I would know you."

"Muggle-born," answered Hermione, sticking her chin in the air. The argument was blowing her head clear and giving her more energy.

Crouch smiled politely. "Nothing to worry about from you then."

Hermione clenched her jaw, but the truth was whilst she was stuck with Terry's wand they really didn't have much to fear, it would barely do anything for her. They must have seen this on her face, because they didn't attempt to take his wand from her, and it remained in her jeans pocket.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded instead, spitting out the rain. "What's the point of turning all these people into zombies?"

The Death Eaters laughed. "My dear," said Crouch sympathetically. "They are not zom-"

"I know!" screeched Hermione, yanking free of her captor's grasp for a brief moment before he could seize her back. "It's Imperius Orbis, I'm not an idiot."

Crouch regarded her coolly. "My apologies," he said quietly. "Martin, I think you should escort our guest elsewhere now, she is clearly getting in the way."

"No!" she squeaked, and tried to twist around as the man, Martin, began hauling her across the playground. They would turn her, they would kill her. She spoke without thinking. "Is it to do with the Dimensional Leap!"

"Wait!"

Martin and the other Death Eaters stopped dragging her towards the woods, and turned back round to face Barty Crouch.

"What did you say?" he hissed, swiping his hair from his face. His blue eyes were focused and his jaw was set in quite a terrifying manner as he stormed over to them.

Hermione was cursing herself. How could she possibly explain their theory that the town and her leap were linked without exposing herself. Voldemort had wanted to kill Draco in her world, and when Harry had been in this world that Voldemort had tried to use him to get the Philosopher's Stone.

"It is, isn't it?" she said, side stepping the issue. "It's something to do with what happened to Harry and You-Know-Who."

Crouch slapped Martin's hands away from her and bent down to look right in her eyes. "Not even the Ministry knows about the body swapping," he said so quietly she could barely hear him over the rain. "How does a little Mudblood girl know what happened?"

"I'm friends with Harry," she bluffed. "And Draco and Parvati, they were there."

Crouch looked satisfied. "No they weren't, you have no idea what you're talking about."

Martin went to grab her again, but Hermione saw her mistake. "Harry might not have been there," she said, "but his body was, with a Harry from another reality inside that defeated your You-Know-Who."

Crouch took a step back and studied her carefully, the other Death Eaters watching on warily, the zombie hoard bumping into their shield charms in an attempt to get to their warmth.

"They told me all about it," said Hermione, trying to keep them on the wrong foot. "And when Harry couldn't talk to his parents at home we came here to see why. What does it have to do with the town, why are you hurting these people?"

Crouch seemed torn, and rubbed his chin with a long finger, then pulled at his collar. "It's none of your business," he decided, but he didn't turn away.

"But-" she spluttered.

And then she stopped. Where Crouch had moved the collar of his robe, she could see something underneath. It was on a bit of leather cord, sitting on his collar bones, close around his throat. A necklet, but it was the pendant that had caught her eye. It looked like a tooth.

"You obviously know too much already," said Crouch dismissively. "Martin will take you somewhere where you won't be any trouble."

"You're right," said Hermione, fighting again as Martin seized her shoulders. "I do know a lot, I can help, are you trying to leap dimensions? Are you trying to find your You-Know-You?"

"Yeah," replied Martin, stopping in shock. "How'd you know that?"

Crouch looked like he was going to shout at him, but Hermione decided to go for broke. "Because I'm from another reality," she snapped. "And when I came here, it meant your You-Know-Who could move realities. But he's not in another world, he's in Limbo."

She was met with stunned silence. Until a different voice spoke, from across the playground. "It's her!" a shrill voice cried, and Hermione looked around to see the spell caster had abandoned his post as well as invisibility charm, and was scrambling over the playground to the group of Death Eaters.

Not for the first time that night, Hermione was shocked to realise that she knew this man very well.

"Professor Quirrell?" she said, flabbergasted. Again, she did not expect her old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to still be alive in this world, let alone here in Godric's Hollow.

"Quirinus," barked Crouch. "You can't stop the spell!"

But Quirrell ignored him, coming to a halt in front of Hermione and looking at her in awe. "It was you," he said. "You were the one who he rode with, you-" his eyes suddenly looked tearful. "You took him from me."

"The spell," snapped Crouch again, but Quirrell waved him off.

"There's more than enough of them now to keep it going," he said, his eyes not leaving Hermione. "They just need to keep working on it now, it'll take time."

"What will take time?" Hermione asked, but Quirrell struck her across the cheek with the palm of his hand.

She gasped as the sting of the slap zinged through her face. "It's your fault he was taken there," said Quirrell, lip trembling. "And now we have to try and find him."

Hermione took a steady breath. "You knew he was in Limbo?" she couldn't help but ask, even if it earned her another slap.

Quirrell raised his hands to his head, his fingers stroking the material of his dripping turban. "I found him," he breathed. "When Potter's spell broke him, I found him, kept him safe."

Hermione felt sick. "He was on the back of your head," she said, repulsed. "Wasn't he?" Quirrell grabbed his turban is surprise, but Hermione shook her head. "That's what happened in my world too, to my Quirrell."

"But he felt you move worlds," her old teacher bemoaned, glancing over what she said about her alternate reality. "I felt you, he saw the new world, the world of endless possibilities and he went. He went…" he choked. "Without me!"

Hermione's eyes flicked to the tooth around Crouch's neck again, and tried to remember Draco's exact words back at the Ministry. "You want to bring him back?" she said out loud. "Rescue him?"

Crouch, who had been quiet for a while, scoffed. "Bring him back?" he said. "You silly girl, why would we bring him back here when he is a king in the new realm?"

She took a moment to process what he was saying. "You want to follow him?" she said slowly.

"We will be his right hand men!" cried Quirrell. "We will find the way and we will follow him to new glories!"

"So you're trying to open a portal?" she questioned.

"Into Limbo," clarified Crouch, taking a step closer to her, his jaw set again. "Not another reality, Limbo."

"No one's ever done it before," chipped in Martin whilst the other Death Eaters nodded earnestly.

Hermione's head was throbbing, but she could see the pieces falling together. "The Orbis spell," she said, eyes moving from Crouch to Quirrell. "You're not doing it to zombify the people, that's just the side effect."

"All those joint minds," said Quirrell gleefully. "So busy and hard at work, trying to find our solution, trying to find how to step between universes and straddle the void."

"But," she spluttered. "If you needed minds, why a little town, why not a university, the Ministry?"

"And miss out on a chance to punish Potter?" answered Crouch wickedly. "No, Godric's Hollow is still a large magical town, but more importantly it was where his family lived, it was the perfect choice to run our experiment."

"Well," said Hermione, trying to push this new information aside. "You shouldn't have bothered."

"Oh?" asked Crouch folding his arms. "And why's that?"

She swallowed. "Because I know the spell," she told them. "I can help you."

"What!" cried Quirrell, but Crouch cut across him.

"You're lying," he said. "How could a Mudblood know a spell like that."

"I," snarled Hermione truthfully. "Am one of the most gifted witches of my generation and have experience of dimension leaping. I want to get home, and could help you achieve your goal at the same time." She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. "But if you don't want my help-"

"No," cried Quirrell. "No, we want it, don't we Barty?"

Crouch glared at her.

"Gifted?" he sneered, then clicked his fingers at her. "Pretty slow off the draw though, Miss Mudblood. Wand, now."

Hermione hesitated for only a second before fishing Terry's wand from her jeans and handing it over. She couldn't do much with it anyway, and it would not do to make Crouch any madder than he already was.

He inspected it briefly before making it disappear in his robes. "So you're clever, is that right?"

The rain was running down his face, but he didn't so much as blink it away as he regarded her. Hermione however felt like she was drowning. "Uh," she stammered. "Yeah, I mean yes. I helped do the spell that got me here."

"And you came here on purpose?" questioned Crouch.

Hermione's eyes flicked around the Death Eaters guarding her, and she tried to stay calm. "No," she admitted. "There was an anomaly, it would have worked perfectly otherwise."

Crouch raised an eyebrow.

"Come on Barty!" pleaded Quirrell. "It's a start, something to go one. I studied the hotspots but it's not like having someone who's actually done it, and crossed over." He was so ingratiating, bobbing about and wringing his hands.

"What do you need?" Crouch asked her eventually.

Hermione licked her lips despite the falling rain on them. "Oh," she said, trying to sound disappointed. "But we need something personal of his, of You-Kow-Who's."

The Death Eaters looked between them, but Barty Crouch Jr considered her coldly for a moment, then fished under his collar for the tooth. "This belonged to his pet Basilisk," he said, breaking the leather and holding it out for her. "Will that do?"

No, thought Hermione to herself. But the venom on it will kill his Horcrux.

xxx

"Kill the what now?" gasped A.J. as the brief humour Ron had experienced died on his lips.

"What's so funny?" demanded Crabapple, taking another step towards them.

Ron shook his head, A.J.'s weight dragging them both down. "Nothing," he spat out into the rain. "Absolutely nothing."

Crabapple scowled, dismissing the matter. "Give me the stone," she said, "and I will let you live."

Ron sighed. "Sure," he said, using his free hand to fish into his pocket. It wasn't what she thought she was after anyway. "Why not."

"No!" screeched Abigail, scrambling up from the ground, blood and rain matted into her hair from where Crabapple had thrown her. She launched at the Headmistress, jumping on her back and wrapping her arms around her neck.

"Abbey!" bellowed Ron in shock, trying to jump to her aid with A.J. still attached to him, but Crabapple had already swung around and dislodged her, so she catapulted off her and straight into Ron, knocking them all to the floor.

They were a pile of limbs. "Don't do it!" spluttered Abbey, clawing at Ron. "Don't give her what she-"

But Crabapple hit them with an "Expelliarmus!" spell, knocking them apart. "You will BOW before the Dark Lord, you will QUAKE!" she thundered, towering over the three teenagers. "Mercy will be his to decide, but this is your last chance: Give. Me. The-"

"Deprimo!" came a voice from behind them, blasting the Headmistress off her feet in a force of wind and rain, like the elements had turned against her, and dumped her in a painful skid towards the end of the alleyway.

Ron spun around in shock, and saw Professor Rodriguez storming up the path.

He flinched back, but the teacher swooped down to them. "Good God, are you children alright?" he cried in his Spanish accent, grabbing their faces to inspect for damage.

"Crabapple," gasped Abbey, fighting back a sob. "She, she-"

"You betrayed us all!" Rodriguez snarled, jumping to his feet, striding over them, his wand raised at the woman the other end of the ally. "You let that woman, that malvado, take my body, use my hands, my feet, for her own wickedness!"

"Heraldo!" commanded Crabapple, on her feet again. "This is none of your concern, what Bellatrix did was wrong, but-"

He cut her off before she could finish with another curse flying through the air, but this time she was ready and threw up a shield to protect herself.

"Go!" cried Rodriguez back at Ron and the others. "Get out of here, I will hold her back!"

"No!" replied Abbey, but Ron was already staggering up, A.J. half conscious on his arm.

"Come on," he insisted. "We have to go, I'll explain on the way!"

Abbey made to dash back towards Rodriguez. "He needs help!"

It was A.J.'s hand that grabbed her arm, fingers slipping in the downpour. "Listen," he breathed, his eyes barely open. The wounds Bellatrix had inflicted were still affecting him, and he was getting worse. He needed medical attention, soon. "Listen to Ron. Hat, said about a hat."

A fireball flew over their heads, causing them to duck. "What?" cried Abbey as they crouched, but Ron began dragging them away.

"She'll kill us!" he shouted. "I promise, come on!"

Abbey craned her neck to see Rodriguez duelling furiously with the Headmistress, but as far as Ron could tell they were pretty evenly matched.

"We have to help my friend!" he told her, stumbling towards the alley's exit. "He's in terrible danger, but we can help!"

They gradually made their way back the way they'd come, supporting A.J. between them with Abbey throwing glances over her shoulder as the two teachers duelled in a haze of colourful sparks and rain.

"What friend?" cried Abbey, her voice breaking as she tore her eyes away from her teachers. "It's my friends that need helpin'!"

They broke out of the alley. There were more battles going on in the main concourse, Death Eaters against teachers and older students, magic firing everywhere with pupils screaming and running for cover.

"This is a nightmare," muttered A.J., his head lolling. Ron couldn't agree more.

"Abbey!" wailed a voice, and Ron turned to see the little Chinese cheerleader that had taken Abbey's bag before and a burly boy even taller than he was, also dressed in purple. They were around the next corner of the building, beckoning desperately at Abbey, Ron and A.J. to come join them. A jet of yellow light zapped overhead, forcing Ron to jerk away and A.J. cried out in pain.

"Izzy!" called Abbey. "Get down!"

The boy wrapped his arms around Izzy, but they wouldn't budge. "Get your damn ass here!" cried the Chinese girl, tears running down her face. "We gotta move, now!"

Abbey ground her teeth. "Idjit," she growled, eyes darting left and right. From what Ron could tell no one was watching them.

"Go," he hissed, and they ran.

Explosions erupted around their feet and above their heads, and Ron heard himself screaming as nausea threatened to overcome him and his trainers pounded down on the ground, churning up the mud.

"Come on!" howled Izzy and he felt a shield spell envelope them.

They tore around the corner of the building into the arms of the cheerleaders. "This way!" barked the boy, sweeping the group along with his long, muscular arm in the rain, and they half ran, half fell along the wall. "Girl where you been!" the boy demanded, his wand out and ready to fend off anyone that came near them. Ron might have been irked by his commanding nature if he hadn't been so bone tired.

"We need to find cover," Abby replied over the storm. The boy and Izzy agreed and seemed to moving somewhere with purpose.

"Who are the Muggles?" Izzy asked as they reached the end of the wall and stopped. "What's going on?"

"Hey," said Ron, breathing hard and brandishing his wand. "I'm not a Muggle." Then he patted A.J.'s arm, who grabbed onto his hand. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Except they shouldn't be here," snapped the boy. "Izzy's right, what the Hell is going on?"

"Shut it Mike," retorted Abbey, spitting and pushing blond hair from her face. "Ron we shouldn't have left Rodriguez-"

"No," interrupted Ron. "Listen. There's something else going on, someone was talking to me in the mirror room."

"Yeah," grunted Abbey. "Me, we need-"

Something exploded. "We need to keep moving!" shouted Mike.

"Wait, wait!" cried Ron flinging his free arm out, his other still holding on to A.J. "You don't understand. He turned to Izzy and Mike. "You want to know what's going on?"

Mike looked at Abbey. "He's a British Muggle?" he said.

"Yes!" barked Ron, losing his temper. "From another reality, and the whole universe is going to fall apart if we don't help my friend Harry kill a bit of the evil wizard he has to fight, okay!"

Mike raised his eyebrows. "I got nothing," he said.

"Ron what'er y'all talkin' about," said Abbey, her eyes wide looking for trouble but so far they were alone. "What wizard?"

"You-Know-You," said Ron with conviction, his conversation with Seamus very clear to him now. "You've got a You-Know-Who, right?"

"You mean Voldemort? Of course we do," wept Izzy. "Who do you think's attacking us?"

Ron winced at the use of his name. "Well," he started, but realised this was too complicated, so ignored Izzy and Mike and just addressed Abbey and A.J. "She's not after the Philosopher's Stone," he said, referring to Crabapple. "She got it all backwards. Seamus told me."

"Who's Seamus?" rasped A.J.

"My friend," said Ron, rocking his head back and forth. "Sort of, he's dead, and he was talking to me from Limbo."

"Okay," said Abbey grimly. "We gotta move, now," and dove out into the main street of the school complex.

"No!" cried Ron as the other Fireflies followed her. He and A.J. shared a look.

"You know you sound nuts right?" asked A.J., and Ron shuddered, his knees weak.

"Yeah," he grumbled, and they shot out after them as fast as A.J. could managed. "Abbey!" he spat as they all flattened themselves against a new building, one that looked more like one of the housing structures they'd seen on their way in, back when Chris was still with them.

"Enough!" she said back, flicking her hair over her shoulder as the rain plastered it to her face. "We have to get to safety, A.J. is really hurt."

"But Ron's right," A.J. argued back, pawing at her shoulder, making her stop. They had been climbing over a porch, but now they halted and, reluctantly, Izzy and Mike stopped too.

"How, which part?" demanded Abbey.

A.J. managed a shrug. "Beats me."

Abbey looked like she was going to bolt again, but Ron cried out. "I can explain!"

"Do it!" growled Izzy. "People are dying."

Ron tried to collect his muddled thoughts. "I'm from another reality, right?" he said, again addressing mainly Abbey, who thankfully nodded despite her teammates' confused stares. "And in between that world and this, and all the other worlds is an in-between sort of place, called Limbo. I dunno what it's like, but that's where my best mate is, and he has to fight our You-Know-Who, otherwise everything's' gonna go wrong."

"How do you know this?" asked A.J. as the bench on a swing jostled in the rain and wind. People were still screaming, and Ron was very aware someone could find them any second now.

"In the mirror room, you woke me up, but I was talking to Seamus, he told me everything, about how there's one thing that can help."

"Help what!" demanded Abbey. "You made me leave Rodriguez, but you've just been talking gibberish since!"

Ron desperately wished he was better with words, like his sister, but he wasn't, they always came out in the wrong order. "If we don't do this for Harry, none of this," he swept his hand out to illustrate the school and the battle. "Will matter, because nothing will exist anymore. It'll be wiped out."

"What?" asked Mike, his eyes wide and sincere.

"What do you mean?" asked Izzy.

Ron screwed up his face, his skin stretching on his throbbing skull. He may remember his conversation with Seamus now, but that didn't mean he understood it. "I think," he panted. "It's like Limbo is the glue that holds all the parallel worlds together, and if it gets unstuck, they'll fall apart."

"Parallel what?" said Izzy, but Abbey hissed her quiet.

"Who could have the power to do that?" she whispered.

"You-Know-Who," said Ron, relieved to have finally got their attention. "In Limbo. Seamus said Harry's going to fight him and unless we do what he said, he won't be able to win."

"And that's got something to do with the stone we found?" asked A.J.

Ron swallowed. His fever was making him feel so hot the rain was practically sizzling on his forehead. "No. Crabapple wasn't talking about the Philosopher's – Sorcerer's – Stone when she said I had something that would sway the battle. She got it wrong. I have a, um." He coughed and tried to remember what Seamus had called it, but couldn't. "A bit of Voldemort's soul, it's complicated, but I brought it with me when I changed dimensions."

"You guys sound nuts," whispered Izzy, but her eyes willed Ron to carry on.

"And I have to destroy it," explained Ron. "I wasn't delirious, I was repeating what Seamus said."

"Kill the hat, with magic fire?" said A.J., his forehead creased.

"The bad thing got stuck in your Ron's hat," said Ron eagerly. "That red cap I left in the car, and I need to mess it up, badly, so my Harry has any chance of stopping You-Know-Who." He shrugged his shoulders. "Again."

"Why, what does you cap have to do with-" started Abbey, but shouts carried over the rain, and the group bolted off of the porch.

"This way!" hissed Mike, darting around the back of the house. They scrambled around as fast as they could.

"It's like this," breathed Ron as they pressed their backs to the wall. "The bit of his soul is stuck in that hat, and if we destroy it, it means Harry can stop Voldemort and save the world, or the universe or something."

"With magic fire?" A.J. repeated again, dubiously.

Ron rubbed rainwater into his tired eyes. "I think so, that's what Seamus said, or poison or something? Like, proper magic I guess, so it can't be repaired."

Abbey stared at him. "And where's the hat?" she asked as more shouts and magic rang out through the air, making Ron's stomach contract.

"In the car," he stammered, "The car, where you found us."

"Chris's car?" said A.J. looking even sicker.

Spells blasted through the night sky above their heads, and the group cowered. "Ron," said Abbey, grabbing his shirt. "Are you sure, you sure this is what your friend meant, what we have to do?"

"We have to go!" insisted Mike, bouncing on his toes. "You're boy here won't last, he needs help now!"

"No," moaned A.J., but even as he said it he swung against Ron's grip, unable to stand.

"We're at Laura's house," said Izzy, pulling at A.J.'s clothes. "She's made a fort."

"Typical," muttered Abbey and tried to pry A.J. away, but he resisted.

"Help Ron," he protested, and Ron looked between them desperately.

"Yeah," he said. "Weren't you listening, I need help, I need to get the hat! Save the world! I know that might not sound real to you, but I do this sort of thing all the time!" It sort of hit Ron at that moment that he did. He faced life or death situations far more than any normal teenagers had to. Sure, he normally had Harry and Hermione by his side, but here he was again, and he had to do it without them.

"Then go get the hat!" shouted Abbey over the rain, wrenching A.J. away and all but throwing him at the Fireflies, who dragged him towards the other houses, barely visible in the moon light. "We'll look after A.J., find the car!"

"But," Ron spluttered. "You're leaving?"

"There's no time," yelled Abbey. "Use a locator spell, find the car, get the hat, Crabapple can't work out she'd made a mistake!"

She was already retreating into the rain. "But..." cried Ron helplessly.

"Get!" hollered Abbey, and vanished from sight.

Ron stood in the rain, voices shouting around him, magic flying through the air, rocking the buildings with explosions, and somewhere, far off, a siren was wailing.

There was no one left to hear him swear. No one left to see him cry.

xxx

It was starting to snow. Cold little flakes were sailing down from the night's sky and catching in Draco's hair, resting on the backs of his hands until they melted way with the heat of his skin.

"Wait, what?" said Harry through gritted teeth. "Your house? What are we doing at your house?"

Draco stared at the towering manor. It wasn't quite right, the grounds were all wrong for a start but the building itself looked bigger, and the architecture more pronounced, more vivid. But this was definitely the place he had grown up in.

He wouldn't go so far as to call it his home.

"Dunno," he said. He hadn't thought Limbo could get any worse, but arriving at Malfoy Manor was somehow far more terrifying to him than the jungle or old London. It was like he'd stepped into quicksand and knew he only had minutes to live.

"Alex did say we were bringing Limbo to life, because we're from the real world," panted Harry. "Makes sense we'd conjure somewhere we'd know." Draco frowned and blinked his way out of his reverie. Harry was still on the ground, his whole body was taught and his face was pinched.

He knew that battling Jack and the other Rhansyk had taken its toll on both of them, but Harry was looking even worse than Draco felt after the cut he'd got to his back. He was healing just fine after Harry's Episkey spell, but Harry himself was looking like death. "Hey, are you alright?" Draco asked. He knelt down on the grass where Harry was propped up and angled Gryffindor's sword out of his way.

"Erm," said Harry, wincing. "No." He tried to move forward, and he gasped and cradle his elbow. "It hurts to breath," he said in little more than a whisper. Draco's eyes glance over his friend's body, and really didn't like the way his right shoulder was looking.

It must have showed on his face, because Harry grimaced. "It's dislocated, isn't it."

It was Draco's turn to nod. "I think so. Okay," he breathed, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, lie down, Blaise told me how to do this once."

"Do what?" asked Harry warily.

Draco gave him an apologetic look. "Pop it back in."

"You could just leave it?" Harry suggested weakly.

"You won't be able to do anything," argued Draco firmly, easing him back down on the grass. "I know what to do, I promise." He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Blaise may have been an enthusiast for medi-spells but Draco had never really paid much attention. The only reason he remembered the way to fix a shoulder like this was because her little brother Armand had popped it out a few years back and they didn't want their mother to know they'd been flying on the Malfoy's broomsticks. Draco had watched then in fascination as she'd used her hands, not magic, to re-set the joint. He owed it to Harry to at least try and remember what she'd done, but his insides squirmed at the thought of making the injury worse.

Harry blew out a breath. "Do it," he said.

Draco crouched to his knees and raised Harry's forearm into an L shape. He eased it towards his chest, and Harry let out a shuddery moan and screwed his eyes closed.

"Okay," said Draco again, "okay." He went for it, twisting the forearm back towards him, keeping the right angle as he moved in one swift motion.

Harry's shoulder popped back into place.

"Ahahah!" he cried as his whole body shook and curled up into a foetal position.

"Are you okay?" asked Draco, unsure if he wanted the answer or not.

Harry just shook, and barely seemed able to draw breath. But after a minute he managed to nod, then after another minute he slowly sat himself up with Draco's help. "Yeah," he breathed out. "Thanks."

Draco patted his back. "Any time," he said, distracted.

It was so quiet. There was no one else around, and after the carnage they'd been facing for the last few hours that just seemed plain unnerving. How had they got here so suddenly? Where had London gone? Where had Puff gone?

"So that's your house?" said Harry quietly, rubbing his arm gently.

Draco just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was his father's house in all honesty, not his. His home was the Gryffindor tower. But he couldn't tear his eyes off of the Manor, a sick, twisted feeling worming through his innards.

"Do you think it's come from you?" Harry asked. "Your mind I mean."

Draco pulled at the damp grass. It was funny, the snow wasn't really making him cold, as if it were just for decoration rather than real. "This is the last place I'd want to be," he said, eyes on his fingers. He turned his hand over and looked at his new figure of eight scar on his wrist, flexing his fist, making the tendons stand out under the dark pink lines.

"The world just changed around us," said Harry, wiping the sweat from his brow. "One minute it was London, then whoosh."

Draco didn't respond, he just stared darkly at the house as if it was its fault. There weren't any Rhansyk here from what he could see, no bad guys. Why were they here?

Harry answered his unspoken question. "I think someone may have brought us here."

Draco stopped pulling at the grass. "The Voldemorts?"

Harry nodded. Despite his aching limbs, Draco got to his feet and pulled Harry up on his good arm. The situation suddenly seemed a lot more tense, and he rested his hand on the sown hilt by his hip. "Maybe they got tired of waiting," said Harry, "and brought us to them. Or maybe those Rhansyk were holding us back from finding them, and once we destroyed them all we were free to transport ourselves here?"

"Either way," said Draco, swallowing the icy lump in his throat. "We're here, and there's a good chance the Voldemorts or something just as nasty are here too."

"Where are they though?" said Harry, cradling the elbow of his previously dislocated arm as he looked around. "We're sitting ducks here, why haven't they come after us?"

The clouds flew over the moon, casting a shadow over the boys. "Probably because we have to go to them," said Draco grimly. As repulsed as he was by the house of his childhood, there was something inside urging him to go inside. "Don't you feel that?"

"I feel a lot of things," said Harry, wincing as he let go of his arm and drew out his wand instead. "Let's go take a look around, see if we can't work out what's going on."

The boys started moving cautiously towards the looming building. Draco tried to focus on his breathing in an attempt to quash the dread creeping up from his guts. Part of him knew this was just a construct, an imagining of Malfoy Manor, but the illusion was so wholly realistic he could almost hear his father's voice.

They reached the driveway and started crunching up the path towards the front door. Draco took in the surroundings again, and frowned. "That shouldn't be there," he said, jutting his chin over to their left.

"What," said Harry.

"The graveyard," replied Draco.

All of a sudden, Harry came to a halt, his arms falling by his side. He stared at the rows and rows of tombstones, overgrown and sticking out from the ground at odd angles. They started maybe twenty feet from the side of the house, and disappeared from sight in a cloud of mist trailing through it.

"You don't think we should go that way?" said Harry, his voice almost trance-like. Draco looked back towards the door.

"No," he said honestly. "I…have to go to the house."

He looked at Harry, who returned his gaze. "I have to go this way," he said, looking back towards the misty cemetery. "I know it."

"What does that mean?" asked Draco.

Harry's face darkened. "Probably trouble."

Draco had had enough experience of dark magic to know not to trust when something appeared to be controlling or influencing your actions, but on this occasion he didn't really see they had a choice.

"It's like it's calling to me," he said.

Harry nodded, his attention still on the graveyard. "Do you think it's them?"

Draco shrugged. "Fits with my 'tired of waiting' theory."

"So –what?" asked Harry, finally turning back to face Draco. He wasn't visibly in pain anymore, but he still looked dishevelled and battle worn. It made Draco weary just looking at him. "They zap us then they're free to unravel Limbo, destroy all the worlds?"

The thought chilled Draco's bones. "You're the expert on facing him, if you think he's really capable of something like that-"

"No doubt," Harry cut across darkly. "I say we tackle the graveyard first, then attempt to go into the house?"

But Draco was already shaking his head. "Don't you see?" he said sadly. "There is no 'we' – there's your Voldemort, and there's mine."

Harry blinked at him. "You want to split up?"

"I don't want to," Draco barked with a laugh that seemed unnaturally loud in the still, snowy scene. "But I think if we're being called different ways, it's because we have to go face our destinies alone."

"That sounds like prophetic twaddle," groused Harry, kicking at the stones on the path.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me I'm wrong."

Harry didn't reply. He just deflated a little, then pulled Draco into a hug. "We'll get through this," he said sternly. "We've made it this far."

Draco nodded and let his friend go. "I'll see you soon," he said, wishing he really believed it.

Harry took one last deep breath, then turned and began walking towards the cemetery.

"Hey Harry!" Draco called after him. The other boy stopped and looked back. Draco felt something pulling painfully on his chest, and he tried to swallow it away. "I," he said. "I'm glad I met you."

Harry managed a little smile, raised his hand, and vanished into the mist, snow and shadow.

Almost instantly, Draco pushed Harry from his mind. He took a breath and immersed himself in solitude, then began walking towards the front door of the manor. He touched the wood, smooth and hard, before wrapping his fingers around the freezing cold knocker, and pushed the heavy door open.

The entrance hall was empty. Draco stood by the half open door, and flakes of snow followed him inside, drifting onto the cold marble floor illuminated by long shafts of moonlight. His hand was still resting on the wood, and he moved his finger tips slightly over the grains of wood, absorbing the way the Manor looked.

The staircase was still there, as well as the ornate umbrella stand and coat rack, however both were empty. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right, and a hallway stretching out of sight to the left of the stairs. But there were no portraits, no vases or ornaments, none of the homely sights that had made this place at least a little bearable. Now it was just an empty shell.

Draco let go of the door and stepped over the threshold in trepidation. There was a creek, and in an unnaturally fast movement the front door slammed shut behind him, plunging the room into darkness for a brief moment.

Draco only just got time to snatch a breath in shock before the torches on the walls sprung to life, flaring orange and filling the entrance hall with the smell of burning wick. He stood very still, his eyes roaming over the corners and shadows dancing in the new light. "Is someone there?" he asked softly.

There was another creak, and unable to help himself Draco took a step back. He touched the door knob half-heartedly, but he knew he could not return the way he'd come even before his fingers tried to turn it. He was stuck here now, whether he liked it or not.

So he took a deep, slow breath, and stepped into the centre of the entrance hall, unsheathing his sword and slotting his wand into the groove like Ric did so he could use both at once. He felt instantly soothed holding the blade aloft, and began to calmly assess with way he should go; left, right, up or straight?

A scratching noise, like a tree branch on a window pane, cut through the silence and ran up Draco's spine like a bolt of lightning. It tore through his calm as he spun to check both the windows either side of the door, but there was nothing there. The noise came again, and feeling moving was a better idea that staying still, Draco crossed over towards the stairs and began to ascend.

The torches all went out.

Draco froze, gripping the banister with one hand and the sword hilt with the other. There were lines visible in the sudden gloom, but nothing solid. "Who's there?" he challenged the almost total darkness, keeping his voice steady.

A faint cry came from somewhere up ahead, a voice, and they sounded scared. Draco couldn't blame them. "Hello?" he said, taking a step forward. He couldn't hear what they was saying, they was too far away but the voice came again, a single word yelled out from far away.

He wasn't alone.

He stood for a moment, just breathing, the sword heavy in his arms. Who could it be, was it Harry?

The thought made him move. His eyes were becoming more accustomed to the dark, and he could make out a little more in the moonlight as he moved up another step, and another. The scratches came again, raking on the window panes as if something was trying to get inside. Draco narrowed his eyes at the entrance hall, swallowing, then turned his back on it completely to head up quickly to the first floor landing.

His heart thumped so hard he imagined he could hear it out loud. Who could they be? Were they in trouble, or was this all part of Voldemort's plan? Draco wished he could ask Harry's advice, but he was probably in his own heap of mess right about now. He still wasn't sure the calling voice wasn't in fact Harry.

"Help!"

The voice was still faint, but Draco had heard the word clear as day, so quiet though they could have been in any number of places in the house.

"Hello?" called Draco again, breaking into a jog, Godric's sword balanced in front of him and his senses alert a he ran down a long corridor. "Is someone there?"

"Help me, please!"

Draco's insides ran cold. It was a woman's voice, or a girl's, he couldn't tell, but she sounded desperate and fearful.

He stood still, not trusting his senses. He was shaking from adrenalin, his eyes alert in the dark. He edged forward and eased open the nearest door. It lead into a drawing room his grandmother had been fond of in her old age, and in the dark Draco could make out chintzy furniture and a grand display cabinet filled with shrunken heads.

He backed out, not taking his eyes off the heads, and moved swiftly further down the corridor, pelting round a corner.

"Can you hear me?" Draco called out, jogging again. There were big windows to his left looking out on the grounds, and closed doors to his right. He spared a second to glance outside to see if he could spot Harry, but he was on the wrong side of the house now to see the strange graveyard.

Actually, the graveyard wasn't the only strange thing about the house, or the fact it was completely devoid of any decoration or personal touches. This corridor was far too long, and all these doors couldn't possibly lead to rooms, the layout wasn't physically possible, it defied logic.

"Welcome to Limbo," Draco muttered to himself, gripping the sword hilt and easing another door open with a creek.

"Draco!" shrieked the voice, and for a second he almost thought it was coming from inside the room. He barely had time to consider that the caller knew his name, or how that could be possible, because he realised he was much closer than he'd been before.

Close enough to finally recognise who the voice belonged to.

"MUM!" he cried, horror eating him up alive. "Mum where are you!" How could she be there, was she trapped in Limbo, like that other Harry's Sirius? Which reality was she from?

Was it his real mum?

"Mum, I'm coming!" he screamed, legging it down the corridor, throwing open doors as he went.

"Draco where are you!" she cried, he was almost there, he could tell. "Draco hurry!"

He flew around the corner, unfamiliar with the layout of this mimicry of his house. He could go up or down a marble spiral staircase, or left down another corridor, this one with doors on both sides.

"Mum where are you!" he bellowed, panic coursing through him like a drug. The house seemed to creak over the top of his words, the ominous scratching following him through the brickwork.

"In here!"

He shot off down the corridor, banging down each door open as he went. These had been the servants' quarters back when the Malfoys had had a full staff, and the small bedrooms were each furnished sparsely with metal framed beds, wooden cupboards and chamber pots.

"I'm coming," he yelled, sweat running down his sore back as he forced open another door. "Hold on, I'm-"

And there she was. He stopped in the doorway in shock. Tied up to a simple wooden chair, bloody, bruised, and apparently unconscious, was Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mum!" Draco cried, throwing himself towards her, dropping the sword to check her over with both hands. She was not responsive as he held her face up. "Mum, wake up, who did this to you?"

The laugh was all he heard before the blinding light filled the room, the scorching pain hitting him on from behind, sending him crashing to the floor and into darkness.

xxx

"Idiot," said Sarah to herself. "Moron, numpty." She was trying to keep her breathing steady and her bedraggled hair out of her face, but now she was actually all on her own it was very hard to keep calm. She had long left Terry and Hermione behind, but she kept looking over her shoulder for them regardless, willing them to be there.

Night had well and truly set now, affording her some cover as she pelted between the buildings in the rain. But the zombie people were everywhere, like the whole town had decided in their lifeless state that outside in the downpour was much better than inside where it was warm and dry.

She had mostly tried to stick to the back alleyways and tree lines, but sometimes there was nothing for it but to risk going on the streets and main roads. And currently she was stuck by a roundabout near a playing field and a village hall, with no other option than to cross in front of several zombies that kept bumping into each other and sparking blue electricity between themselves.

She found herself wishing this was a real zombie film, like the ones Sirius would let her watch when he babysat, so she could just walk out moaning with her hands in front of her and blend in unnoticed. But then she realised that would mean everyone was actually dead, and couldn't be saved.

"Cretin," she added to her list of insults to herself. How could she wish that, just to make her life easier, how selfish was she? Wishing wasn't going to accomplish anything anyway, action would, and she screwed up her face trying to work up the courage to just run for it.

Did she really think she could make it back to her house, find a necklace in the mud and the dark, then get back into town to find Terry and Hermione, all without getting touched by one of the thousands of zombies currently wandering aimlessly around? She was dreaming.

But what choice did she have? For all they knew, they three could be the only human people left (unless they counted golf club man, which she most certainly did not). They had to keep going, right until the very end or die trying.

She swallowed. Was she ready to die?

She'd thought about death a lot in the last year. What had happened to her in Germany had forced her to face up to her own mortality, and she had spent many a sleepless night thinking of Seamus Finnigan, dying in the forest in Germany, dying for her, for Draco, so far from home, all cold and wet. Well, she thought, suddenly stern. At least if she died here, she would be home. That was a small comfort at least.

She would definitely be really, really wet though.

The rain was relentless, but she was sort of used to it by now. In fact she was grateful to it for hiding her from sight, making her a shadow in the night. But these were not normal zombies (or at least Muggle movie zombies) and they could sense her body heat. Already she could tell they were twitching, like they were sniffing the air for her scent.

She would just need to go, now, before they could gang up in her. But as she hugged onto the village hall building, she tested her weight on her sore ankle. It was getting worse. The magic Hermione had managed to do with Terry's wand was wearing off, and it was throbbing in her boot. She cursed and spat out rain water, enraged that now was the time she had decided to have a clumsy landing. All those hours of playing Quidditch and the most she'd managed was a black eye and sprained fingers.

She rocked back and forth. She still had one good foot though, and the bad one wasn't unbearable, she could still attempt to hop into a run. Which was more than any zombie could do.

In a spurt of energy she made up her mind and dove out into the street, zigzagging between cursed people and limping as deftly as she could. They wailed and shuffled around in her wake, but as soon as she got onto the playing field there were less of them. Unfortunately though, the uneven grass was Hellish on her foot and she had to slow and pick her way more carefully. But the wooded area was only a few dozen feet away, and even by the moonlight she knew where the winding path was that would take her to her house, she'd been using it since her childhood. She would lose them in the trees.

An old male zombie moaned, and Sarah whipped her head around. Their electricity lit them up wonderfully in the dark, so she had no trouble picking them all out. Unfortunately, they had already acquired a few friends, and they were stumbling onto the grassy area with renewed determination.

"You just try it," said Sarah through gritted teeth, picking up her pace and screwing up her fists to try and combat the pain of her ankle. Thump, thump, thump. She could make out the tangle of branches now, and she gasped as she made the near invisible path, swinging herself on a spindly trunk, finding the right way through the foliage.

The wind was howling and the branches flailed like tentacles trying to grab a hold of Sarah as earnestly as the zombie townsfolk. She caught glimpses of blue light in every direction, but she stuck to the path, her wand in hand and ready to fire. She knew magic wasn't all that effective against whatever had possessed these people, but she could still blow up the ground from under their feet if she needed to.

The terrain was gently sloping upwards, and Sarah winced every time her left foot hit the forest floor, but she kept going. The path looked totally different at night, however she was still pretty certain she was going the right way. Something cracked loudly behind her, and she almost lost her footing entirely spinning around to see.

She screamed for only the briefest of moments, before getting a grip and swallowing her fear. The zombie man was dark skinned, making him hard to make out in the night, but his white eyes and crackling blue electricity made him clear to see several feet below her on the path. He must have just stumbled upon it, but now he had seen her. "Obliviate!" she cried, saying the first spell that came into her head, and at least managed to stun the poor man, who slumped despondently.

She didn't wait around to see what else he did, she knew the other spells they'd used hadn't been all that effective, so hightailed it further up the path.

She thought she would have reached her house by now, and her heart was hammering in her chest. The place had been crawling with zombies, and they'd been shaking at the fence by the time she and the others had left, what would she meet when she did eventually find it?

She tried to calm herself by turning to see she had at least managed to lose the man on the path. It was dark and she was panicking, maybe it was just talking longer that she would have thought because she was extra sensitive, hyper aware?

Shapes were moving around in the distance and grumbling a low-pitched, monotone whine. She hobbled one foot in front of the other, concentrating on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. "There's no place like home," she whispered to the darkness, knowing how stupid she sounded. "There's no place like home."

After a few minutes she stopped and blinked, trying to wipe cold water out from her eyes. It looked like a structure up ahead, lines that looked man-made and not like trees. She sprinted along the last few twists, and almost cried out in relief as she finally came upon the torn wreckage of the Potters' back fence.

The wooden panel they had climbed over had been pulled to pieces, but the rest of the fence was pretty much intact. Sarah could still hear the far off moans of zombies all around, but there wasn't a hoard hanging around the end of her back garden like she'd feared. But the ground was trampled to a muddy, lumpy mess.

Her face fell as she took it in. She was too afraid to light her wand in case it attracted attention, but she couldn't see any sign at all of a necklace in the weak, dappled moonlight. She trod carefully around, moving in circles and straining her eyes to see if she could discern anything sticking out of the dirt.

She looked at her wand. What was that summoning spell? She was sure there was one, how did it go? "Asho?" she whispered, unconvincingly, but that didn't feel right. "Akio? Ashio? Accio?" Warmth flared through her fingers and her wand attempted to light up. Sarah stared at it, hardly daring to breath, then remembered to check she was still alone.

A quick look around told her no zombies were upon her just yet, but there were several flashes of light in the distance that got her feeling worried.

"Accio necklace," she said determinedly. "Accio necklace, accio-" Something shifted in the corner of her eye. She extended her arm and held it rigid, clenching her jaw and screwing up her forehead. "Accio necklace!" she cried, probably a little too loudly to be safe, but the mud wriggled and in a flash a string of silvery metal shot out and into her other open hand.

Sarah felt tears spring to her eyes in relief. There it was, the key on the chain, the grit being washed away as she watched by the pouring rain.

"Yes," she breathed, grinning like a maniac. She'd done it, she'd found it, all by herself.

Movement caught her attention though, and her brief joy was squashed as the fear came back with a crash. She could make out at least two zombies, one down the path (probably that man again) and another to her right, both less than twenty feet away.

She put the Horcrux the only safe place she could think, which was around her neck, and slipped through the splintered wooden panel and into her garden. It felt heavy on her chest, like it was tugging at her throat, making her feel uncomfortably tight, but she didn't trust it not to fall out of her pocket after everything she'd been through in the past few days, so ignored it as best she could.

She needed to get back to town, but the forest was crawling with zombies slowly following her from the earlier pursuit. Perhaps she would be better trying to get through her house? There looked like there were still several cursed people milling around on the patio though, and the two she'd just seen must be close by now.

She kept near to the fence on the right hand side, traipsing through her mum's flower beds and ducking behind bushes and shrubs to try and keep herself hidden. The back garden was a mess from where the kitchen had exploded, with lumps of brickwork and sparkling slivers of glass everywhere. Maybe she should jump the fence where she was now, and try and make her way around the front. She could hide behind the long lines of trees that were planted along the driveway at least to get her away from the house.

She pocketed her wand, and was just reaching for the wooden panel, when the sharp stick digging through her shorts made her remember something, and she spun around to look at the patio again.

Hermione's wand was buried somewhere under there.

Sarah turned back to the fence, then cursed and looked at the rubble again. She couldn't search through it without being seen, she was sure, but Hermione was naked without the use of magic, vulnerable. What would Sarah have done without her wand? She certainly never would have found the Horcrux in time.

She cursed, and moved away from the fence, darting to an apple tree to try and give her a little bit of cover still. "Accio wand," she hissed, but nothing happened. She was sure Terry would have tried this before, but she cast the spell again and again, just in case. Nothing.

She was half tempted to abandon her search and stick to her original plan and just get out of there. She'd tried, she didn't have to, she should save herself before something bad happened. But she couldn't. This could save Hermione's life, how selfish would she be to give up now?

She looked back and could see there were three zombies stumbling around by the broken fence, but they hadn't spotted her yet. She wondered what their range was for feeling her warmth, then turned back to the patio. "Wingardium Leviosa," she said, blinking out the rain from her eyelashes and focusing everything she had on a particular cluster of brick and mortar.

She managed to make several of the smaller bits roll away and a couple of larger chunks rise up in the air where she deposited them on the grass. "Okay," she whispered, encouraged, checked the zombies were still all happily pottering around doing their own thing, then tried again.

She got more or less the same result, but the rubble was shifting. She only needed to dislodge the right section and Hermione's wand would be free to respond to her summoning charm. She performed it twice more, then tried "Accio wand," again. Still it did not appear, but Sarah had got the idea in her head now and she wasn't going to stop, not if she could help it.

Unfortunately, some of the zombies had other ideas. It appeared that her shifting stonework was gaining their attention, and a couple of them were now picking their way through it, their sad white eyes looking down at anything that moved about like hungry dogs. The people from the back of the fence were also slowly making their way down the middle of the long garden, and Sarah was starting to fret how long her tree would keep her hidden.

Knowing she would probably regret it, she clamped her wand between her teeth and jumped for the first branch of the apple tree, pulling her body off the ground. She hadn't done this in quite some time, and she could tell instantly she was bigger and heavier than the last time she had attempted it. But whilst that made it a bit of a struggle to hold her own weight, her arms reached the next branch with ease, and in moments she was several feet from the ground, hidden by the leaves and branches, and hopefully too high up to be reached by any zombie hands.

Now she just had to pray they would not look up, or learn how to climb.

She wrapped her left arm around the trunk and wedged herself into the tree securely. She was able to let her twisted ankle swing freely, and it was a pleasant relief. Pushing her hair out of her eyes again, she took her wand back from her mouth and began her task once more, despite the zombies now standing around in the rubble. The three from the back fence seemed to have got distracted by the ornamental fountain and were thankfully not a bother right at that moment.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she murmured, shifting one of the bigger lumps with some satisfaction. The zombies' heads wobbled on their shoulders as they watched it move about, and Sarah got an idea. "That's it," she said, bobbing the clump up and down like she was tempting a cat with string. "Follow the nice bricks."

She danced it as far as she could down the garden, which was only about ten feet, before the weight got the better of her and it dropped into the grass with a damp thump. But it had done the trick, and the zombies were now bumbling a little further away from the house. The three by the fountain were also enraptured by the debris, and shuffled over to moan at it, their feet bumping into the sides and their hands swiping the air.

Sarah carried on with her game, heaving up bits of brick as quick as she could, then waving them in front of the mob to lure them a little further away each go. By the time she had them almost back at the fence, there were none left by the house, but more were wandering in from the forest out back. Realising she wouldn't have long, she tried the summoning spell once again.

"Accio wand!"

She didn't even see the little stick flying through the air, until it smacked her in the face.

"Ow!" she hissed, slapping her hand to her stinging eye and feeling a little foolish. When she could see again, she blinked, and tried the spell once more, guessing the wand must have fallen to the floor. "Accio wand," she said cautiously, and held her free hand open and ready to catch it this time as it shot up from the grass under the tree. Obediently, it did just that, and Sarah wrapped her fingers around it, victorious.

She'd done it. The Horcrux and the wand. She'd managed to get them both.

But she didn't have time to revel in her glory. The zombies were getting bored, and some of them looked tempted to trundle back her way. Aiming her wand at one of the chunks she had already dumped on the grass, she hefted it up again, and bounced it through the air, grabbing the crowd's attention. Praying no one was in her way to get hurt, she flicked her wand, and sent the rubble flying between the splintered fence panels, and out into the forest.

"Fetch," she said to herself, satisfied, as the group staggered slowly after the bricks. She put both hers and Hermione's wands in her pocket, then reached for the branch below, trying her best not to use her sore foot on the descent.

In a few moments she was back on the ground and wasted no time in running for her house. The kitchen was half gone, and there was a worrying hole in the ceiling that led up to her parents' bedroom, but the house didn't seem to be falling down just yet, so she would have to hope it lasted by itself a little longer.

Cautiously, she plucked her wand from her pocket, and eased into the kitchen, dripping loudly on the tiled floor. Her breathing sounded so loud in the relative quiet of the house, even though the rain was still pounding down outside the gap where the back door used to be.

She crept around the large wooden table, running her free hand along the counter for support as she went. There were strange noises everywhere, but she couldn't tell if anything was in the house, or if was just the rain and wind outside.

She edged into the living room, her eyes instinctively falling on the spot where Peter had grabbed her on that night in November, and transported them both away to Germany to use her as bait. Now there was glass all over the floor from the front window, the net curtain was billowing in the harsh breeze, and the carpet was wet from the rain. Almost all the furniture was broken, and sickening streaks of blood were splattered up the walls, along the glass shards, seeping into the curtains. Signs of the explosion she'd caused, so great it was in her terror, were evident by the blackened marks everywhere, and she sincerely hoped she hadn't hurt anybody with the attack.

"I'm never living here again," said Sarah to herself, wrenching her eyes away and skimming the rest of the room. She had tried to tell herself all year that she was safe here, that bad things wouldn't happen again. But she'd been wrong, and the urge to get out and run as fast and as far away as she could was overwhelming.

She darted through the room, heading for what remained of the front door after the explosion, but she was stopped in her tracks. A female zombie was crouched in the landing, making a keening noise over a male one that was whimpering and flinching on the floor. Sarah's first reaction was horror, and to flee, but it didn't take her more than a moment to realise that the man, or boy as he looked to be, was injured in some way, and pity overtook her fear.

"Oh no," she said involuntarily. Had she caused this?

The woman's head snapped up, and Sarah couldn't help but jump back.

"No," she whispered, looking over her shoulder as she stepped back into the living room. "Wait, it's okay, I'm sorry." The woman zombie – the boy's mother perhaps? – stumbled to her feet and let out a guttural moan which Sarah was terrified would bring more zombies to them. "Stop, I can help him, look!" She darted to the left and aimed her wand at the boy. "Episkey!"

The magic hit the boy zombie, and Sarah wasn't sure how much was deflected like all the other spells they'd tried on them, but he definitely stopped writhing and crying as much as he had been, and took a shuddery breath.

The mother zombie didn't seem to care though. She mewled angrily and stomped towards Sarah, pawing and grabbing with her claw like hands. Sarah squeaked and turned to run outside again, but to her horror one of her followers from the garden had made it into the remains of the kitchen, and was moaning back at the mother.

Panic tore through Sarah's insides, and she stumbled backwards, tripping over the remnants of the coffee table and landing painfully on the glass nestled in the carpet. She cried out and tried to scrabble backwards as the zombie in the kitchen was joined by a friend.

They were backing her into a corner. They were going to get her.

Sarah let out a roar and threw a curse out from her wand, which only stopped her attackers a little but it gave her a second to jump to her feet. Without pause, she spun and dove for the window with the broken pane, and smashed the last few shards of glass out before lifting her good foot up to propel herself outside. She seized the frame with her hands, and pulled herself off the floor, the rain already hitting her face again.

Then something grabbed her boot.

She screamed, digging her fingers into the wood and bricks, and whipped her head around.

The mother had her hands on her shoe, and was pulling her back into the house. Her fingers must have only been centimetres away from brushing Sarah's leg, and she didn't know if tights would hold back the curse like leather.

With a cry she kicked her sore, twisted foot into the woman's chest, causing an blast of pain to tear through her joints. But she relinquished her grip, and Sarah wasted no time at all in throwing herself through the window frame and out into the rain.

xxx

Harry didn't turn back and look at Draco. He knew whatever they were about to face was going to be bad enough, he didn't want to torment himself any further than he already had.

Besides, Draco had Godric's sword, and Harry had seen how he could use it. He definitely wouldn't want to be on the end of that blade when it got wielded out.

Thinking defensively, Harry held up his wand as he crunched down the gravel path towards the graveyard that, according to Draco, have never been a part of Malfoy Manor. Snow fell silently through the trailing mist that was snaking around the headstones up ahead, creeping down the path and over the damp grass. All Harry could hear was his own breathing and his footfalls, and it was unnerving.

How had they got here, where had the Rhansyk gone? He couldn't imagine they would just leave Draco and him alone after the fight they had put up. Jack the Ripper had done his level best to kill Harry, he was sure of it. He rubbed his aching shoulder, the dull pain gradually becoming worse after Draco had fixed the dislocation. Harry briefly switched his wand into his left hand to see if that would be any better, but it felt so unsecure he swapped back almost immediately. He'd rather make his arm throb and know he could cast spells than aim with his shaky, inexperienced left side.

He slowed as he came to the edge of the cemetery, his eyes roaming through the moonlight, trying to see if there was anyone lurking in the dark waiting for him. He felt such a strong pull to walk this way he knew it wasn't natural, and when unnatural forces compelled you do to something you were an idiot if you weren't cautious. He chose not to light up his wand, as his eyes had grown accustomed to the moonlight, but he was tempted when he looked into the deep, dark shadows pocketed between the gravestones.

The grounds sloped away into a thick looking forest to his left, and the house loomed over to his right. Harry took a long breath of cool air, and walked forward in between the graves.

Why was he being drawn here, for what purpose? He was still stubbornly arguing with himself that he and Draco should not have split up, that they should have faced each Voldemort together.

As many questions as Harry had tumbling around in his head, he had no doubt that it was the Voldemorts running the show here. He wondered for the thousandth time if Hermione and Ron had been able to find and destroy their Horcruxes. It didn't sound like it was the easiest task in the world, though Alex had kindly explained that he himself had already done so, when he stabbed Riddle's diary with the Basilisk tooth.

That made Harry reel slightly, that he had already destroyed a part of his Voldemort's soul without even knowing it. That he was oblivious to the fact a few years ago and now it was central to the unravelling of the entire Multiverse, well it made him think what else he might have missed?

Or would it even matter? If he and Draco couldn't stop this he would never get the chance to find out if he'd let any other vital information pass him by, and neither would anybody else.

Harry arbitrarily turned right down a row of tombs. He worried how Alex and Draco's Hermione were doing. They had not looked good when the boys had left them on top of the mountain after the Rhansyk had attacked them on Alex's doorstep. If people could just heal themselves well again in Limbo, why didn't everybody do it? Harry didn't really understand the rules.

He felt his hand rise up almost unconsciously, and touch the cold stone of one of the graves. He paused to take in the still graveyard, then glanced down at the inscription.

He had not really been expecting anything other than weathered letters that meant nothing.

He had definitely not been expecting it to read 'Lily Potter.'

Harry jumped back and retracted his left hand like it had been scalded. His heart rate, which had calmed a little in the quiet respite, leapt up again and he regarded the headstone in horror.

It looked fresh, like it had just been erected. 'Lily Potter,' it read. 'Loving wife and mother. Born 30-01-60, Died 31-10-81'

Harry had never seen his mother's grave, was this real? Did he conjure up this graveyard like Draco had brought to life his childhood home? His heart hammered and his skin ran cold, why was he so startled? He felt like he was looking at his mum's still-warm corpse, not an imagining of her headstone.

As his shock lessened ever so slightly, Harry's eyes began to focus on the other gravestones, and his gut contracted. 'James Potter,' read the next one. 'Loving husband and father. Born 27-03-60, Died 31-10-81'.

He stumbled backwards on the frozen ground, backing into a different headstone. He spun, like it had been a person he had collided with, and desperately raked his eyes over the inscription. 'Sirius Black, Valued friend and Godfather, Born 23-09-59, Died 18-06-96'.

"No," said Harry aloud. "No, no." Sirius wasn't dead, he'd saved him, he was dead in that other universe.

But so it went on as he tripped, blurry eyed to the next grave, and the next. 'Cedric Diggory', 'Seamus Finnigan', 'Narcissa Malfoy', 'Ron Weasley', 'Neville Longbottom'.

"NO!" shouted Harry, fumbling with his hands as his knees betrayed him and he stumbled into a different grave that also bore the name of his father. Everywhere he looked, the names repeated themselves, bombarding him, overwhelming him.

He shoved himself off of the cool stone and found his feet again. They began pounding on the hard ground as he blindly steered through the lose rows of graves, all bearing names of people he'd been responsible for their deaths.

"Aww," cat-called a voice, and Harry only just managed to jerk his path out of the way from the Rhansyk that leapt from behind a large tomb adorned with a griffin unfurling its wings. The Rhansyk soon righted himself, he was a big brute of a butcher, complete with blood stains and a wicked looking clever lodged half way through his neck. He was not the one that had spoken though.

"Leaving so soon?" cooed the same voice from atop the mausoleum, and the charred and burnt face of Bellatrix Lestrange appeared from over the edge.

Harry didn't even give them a moment's pause, he was hurtling through the snow, darting between headstones that all read the same now-familiar names. Get to the woods, he thought.

A jet of purple light shot into the gravestone he ran past, the exploding rock digging into his side as it jettisoned and making him stumble, but he kept on going. He didn't even turn to see how many monsters were now following him. He could tell from the voices there were several.

It was a trap, he knew it had been a trap, and he'd let Draco walk off alone. Were there Rhansyk laying in wait for him too, were they the ones that had drawn them apart. Or Bellatrix? Was the other one here too, the second of the pair that had chased them into the jungle?

Harry hoped against the odds that this perimeter might stop his pursuers once again, but as he broke through the tree line and fled between the oaks he heard no falter in the pairs of feet crashes only meters behind him.

"Confringo!" he yelled, pointing his wand over his shoulder and rocketing out a violent stream of fire that caused several trees to erupt into flames. He heard a couple of Rhansyk wail in pain (or anger, he wasn't convinced they could feel pain) but he could tell there were still plenty on his heels.

The trees whipped and rustled hastily around him, animated by their chase and the wind blowing the snowflakes through in thick clumps that stung Harry's face. He hadn't thought them cold earlier, or the air temperature low, but it was starting to feel more and more like a true winter's night the further he ran.

"Sectumsempra!" he tried instead, but the spell was off and hit nothing, let alone the Rhansyk it was intended to unravel, so Harry decided to stick to bigger, more destructive spells. "Expulso!" he bellowed, taking out several more trees and Rhansyk as he hurtled on.

He needed to escape, he needed to lose them. His shoulder was causing him blinding pain and he gasped and grunted as he ran, tears streaming down his face from the icy air and throbbing ache. More spells few over his head, but he suspected Bellatrix was the only one with a wand which gave him the smallest of advantages. The dozen or so Rhansyk were still gaining on him, his feet fumbling through tiredness and panic on the frozen tree roots and jagged stones.

The forest was much darker than the graveyard, and Harry was grateful for the full moon glinting through the stripped tree branches. As he scrambled up a verge, a throwing axe went whizzing over his head and thrummed into a nearby oak.

"I could do this all day baby Potter!" cried Bellatrix gleefully, and Harry spun and stumbled down the other side of the small hill, gravity helping him move quicker but also making him unsteady. He could see the Rhansyk hopping around unnaturally from the corner of his eyes, almost flanking him they were so close. It could only be mere moments before the pounced on him.

"We don't want to hurt you!" cackled Bellatrix in her sing-song voice. Harry couldn't tell where she was without turning his head, but she seemed to be everywhere at once. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on with him all the confusion and adrenaline. He reached level ground again and pounded on. He'd lost all sense of direction and couldn't tell where the house was anymore. Why couldn't he change the landscape by will, why couldn't he make himself disappear like they had from old London?

He bashed into a gnarly tree and spun himself off before being able to pick up his speed again. A Chinese Rhansyk woman almost grabbed him, but he flailed out with his wand and manage to blast her back.

Maybe he should run for the house, find Draco, who knew where these woods lead? But as he pushed himself off another tree and leapt over a shallow brook he knew he still had no idea what direction that might be.

Suddenly his feet went out from under him, tangled in a length of leather weighted down with rocks tied at either end. Harry crashed into the forest floor with a bellow, slamming his bad arm into the dirt with such force he felt a gag of nausea, and sending his wand flying several feet away. He rolled and tried to kick his bound feet around so he could stand, but he was deftly caught and the Rhansyk were on him in seconds.

"Hey there pretty boy!" crowed what looked like the rope's thrower as he seized Harry's collar and hauled him upwards. The man was wiry and gaunt, with a feeble attempt at a moustache and a lifeless glass eye. His working, red eye glared at Harry as his mouth split into a broken toothy grin. "Ooh, you are a pretty boy!"

Another pair of hands grabbed Harry's shoulders and he screamed out in involuntary pain. A tall muscular man with a shaved, tattooed head took hold of him from the one eyed Rhansyk, and sensing that Harry was in pain shook him to cause more.

Harry cried out and tried to kick with his wrapped up legs, but he couldn't reach anything. The dozen or so Rhansyk were surrounding him, and Harry felt dread sweep over him, engulfing him. "What do you want!" he shouted, gritting his teeth in a pitiful attempt to block out the pain.

"You?" cooed Bellatrix. "I should have though that much to be obvious?"

The big man threw Harry to the floor, and he grunted and jerked as the pain from his shoulder rattled through the rest of his body. "Why!" he spat out through dirt and dried leaves. "If Voldemort wants me dead, then just do it already!"

Bellatrix weaved her way through the small crowd, a peel of laughter trilling from her throat. A couple of the Rhansyk joined in; one with a large gut guffawed and wiped a handkerchief over his sweating brow, the big one that had just thrown Harry down crossed his arms and glared.

"So eager to die," whispered Bellatrix dramatically. She swooped down and seized Harry's face, squeezing his cheeks. "Need I remind you that you came to us," she hissed, her wild eyes having trouble keeping focus on his own. "I was furious when you left me and my sister on the outskirts of that mad woman's jungle, and then ta-da! There you were."

Harry didn't say anything. His mind was racing; so they weren't brought here by the Voldemorts, they had brought themselves, was that was she was saying? But that pulling sensation that had drawn them apart, what had that been?

Bellatrix became suddenly board of him and let his face go. "Tie his hands," she snapped at Glass-Eye. "Release his feet, he can walk back to the house."

Harry braced himself as his hands were grabbed and his tender shoulder protested, but within a second it was over, the new rope was tight around his wrists and the skinny man was retrieving his throwing weapon, freeing Harry's ankles as Bellatrix took his wand from the floor and pocketed it.

Fight back! a small part of his brain screamed. No point, admitted the rest. If they wanted to kill him they would have done it, he might as well go see what Voldemort wanted from him, what else was there to do? He knew this line of thinking was absurd, but he really didn't see an alternative. Maybe Hermione and Ron had been able to destroy the Horcruxes, he thought with a little flurry of hope as the Rhansyk regrouped and began marching along in a line through the forest. At least he'd been right, at least Voldemort was really here and if his Horcrux was gone Harry might have a chance to defeat him.

That was a lot of 'ifs' and 'buts' and 'mights'.