This story does not belong to me, and if you want to pretend I think it does, you're gonna have a hard time doing that. Because I don't. I don't claim the characters either, so you're out of luck there.

Tough cookies.

For James.

In the days after the battle, what Harry remembered most was the staring.

He remembered the look on Ron's face when he realized what had happened, just outside the gate at Hogsmeade, and the look on Hermione's face as she tried to comfort him. He remembered shock, and then numbness as the adrenaline left his body and the enormity of what he had witnessed sunk in.

It wasn't the blood, but the finality of the thing, that caught Harry so off guard. He didn't remember his parents' deaths well enough for it to really hurt him. When Sirius had died, he had simply vanished. And Harry had closed his eyes when Cedric Diggory had died.

Percy had died right in front of Harry's eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He, Hermione, and the entire remaining Weasley family, including Charlie, simply sat in the common room and stared at each other, trying to wrap their minds around what had happened.

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Percy was buried in the graveyard at on the edge of the Hogwarts grounds that was traditionally used for all residents of Hogsmeade. His family wanted to return to Ottery St. Catchpole for the funeral, but it had been decided that that was just too dangerous.

The attackers had not been Death Eaters, but a few local wizards who were afraid that the four who visited the local shed were there at the request of Voldemort. They had attacked in what they believed was a defense of Ministry property. Kingsley Shacklebolt was holding them in the dungeon where Snape had once taught Potions, and they had pleaded guilty to the murder of Percy Weasley and the attack on Harry, Ron, and Hermione. When the war was over, they would be sent to Azkaban for life.

The little old man who had performed Dumbledore's funeral and Bill's wedding had died in a Death Eater attack the month before, so Percy's funeral was presided over by Professor McGonagall, who had once been his Head of House. She stood before the assembled Order members and Ministtry employees and began to speak.

"We are here today to honor one of our own, fallen before his time. Percy Ignatius Weasley was a fine student, a loving son, and a devoted employee of the Ministry. Although his time among us was brief, he made an impact on each of our lives that will never be forgotten."

Harry was seated between Ron and Ginny in the front row of the assembled crowd. Mrs Weasley, on Ginny's other side, was sobbing into her husband's shoulder. Harry was trying hard to find one memory of Percy he could really enjoy, but it all seemed to be negative – except Percy's last words. "No one will ever notice."

Finally, it seemed that Percy had understood that some rules were just stupid. And just when he'd finally gotten it, he was dead.

"This death reminds us all that while there are great dangers in this world that we know exist, the even greater danger often takes us by surprise. The fact that the wizards who took this young man from us were not allied with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named but were acting, they felt, to protect us all from that same menace, shows us how far we truly have to go."

She turned to the coffin resting next to her. "Percy," she said, "I thank you for your service, and for your loyalty. You were a wonderful specimen of wizardkind."

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Following the funeral, Ron and Ginny were very subdued. Every once in a while, Ron would bring up Percy, but mostly they reverted to how it had been before Percy had returned – not talking about him at all.

At first, the four of them would just sit, staring at the wall in the common room and watching nothing. The shock of what had happened was so startling that they were at a loss for words. In the blink of an eye, the whole world had changed, and it took some time to get used to that idea.

As time went by, they gradually learned to stop staring for a bit. And then a bit more. After a month, while it wasn't quite the same as before, the four of them seemed to have fallen back into the camaraderie that had been so lacking at first.

The week after the funeral, Harry and Hermione sat down and examined the key closely. It was determined that it did, in fact, bear the mark of Rowena Ravenclaw, and that it was the only surviving item to bear her mark. Since it had come from a Death Eater, Harry was sure that the key was either a Horcrux or had been intended to be a Horcrux. Whatever had been true, the key was empty of soul now. Being hit by an Avada Kedavra curse was enough to rid the key of whatever fragment of soul it might have once possessed.

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The Order was losing the war, and they all knew it. Whenever the Death Eaters attacked, more and more people were killed or Kissed. The population of Britain was leaving in waves, and overseas attacks had become common. It seemed that nowhere was safe anymore.

Daily, now, Harry found himself leaving Hogwarts to help fight the battles. Sometimes he was in actual battle, fighting Dementors and Death Eaters. Sometimes it was more of a cleanup operation. The Infirmary at Hogwarts was always full, and Hermione was often found in one of the classrooms, brewing constant healing potions. The Death Eaters had not tried to attack Hogwarts for some reason, but it was about the only place that had never seen an attack. Kingsley was using word of mouth to encourage people to build their own shelters and ward them against intrusion by the Death Eaters, so that they would at least be safe.

Neville was often with them when something happened. He had joined the Order and was now almost completely absorbed by the fight against Voldemort. Harry was glad to see how far Neville had come from the boy he had been. It was heartening to see how well Neville was doing now if one could only forget the reason for it.

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In mid-May, a group of Dementors attacked Diagon Alley, near Fred and George's shop. The Order Flooed into the shop, which was in complete chaos. The Dementors were quickly followed by a wave of Death Eaters, and they began firing Avada Kedavras indiscriminately.

Harry and Neville ended up pinned behind the counter in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Luckily for Fred and George, they had gotten most of the merchandise out of the store and were back to running a mail-order business. Only a few prototypes had been left behind.

Harry was wondering if there was anything that he could use for a distraction, because there were about twenty Death Eaters in the shop. "Neville," he whispered, "can you see anything usable on that side?" Everything on his side was boxes reading things like, "Exploding powder" and "Random curses". Not exactly stuff he wanted to play with right now.

Neville glanced around him. "Just a box of hourglasses," he told Harry. "Nothing helpful."

Harry sighed. Perfect.

The Death Eaters were crouched behind several rows of shelves on the other end of the store. Harry needed something to distract them from the fact that he and Neville were going to duck into the Floo in the back room. He frowned, then raised his wand and tried a tricky maneuver that he had learned from an Auror the week before.

The shelf the Death Eaters were hiding behind folded itself over, exposing several of their heads. Harry fired off a quick series of Stunners, and Neville joined him. One by one, the Death Eaters keeled over and slumped to the floor.

Harry knew that would only work once. The spells being sent their way were now coming form much nearer the floor, but now they were only outnumbered fourteen to two instead of twenty.

He didn't feel close enough to Vanish the shelves, but he was desperate enough for a diversion to start throwing pencils at the Death Eaters. When the first one landed, there was a slight pause in the spells, during which one of them actually tried to duck and cover, jumping into the aisle.

"Stupefy!" cried Neville. Thirteen left.

Harry chucked a box of paper clips. This wouldn't work forever, but it might work twice. Another Death Eater – who Harry was sure was related to Goyle – skittered backward in terror. Twelve.

Harry cautiously opened the box of explosives. Little black balls were inside. Praying that they wouldn't destroy the whole store, Harry chucked one at another shelf. The small explosion toppled the shelf, pinning the Death Eaters behind it to the ground.

Seven left.

Neville got into it as well, and soon all the Death Eaters were incapacitated in some way. Just when they cautiously stood to make a run for it, Draco Malfoy entered the store.

Harry had not seen Malfoy in some time. He was thinner, and, if possible, even paler than Harry remembered him. And while Malfoy had once been a dead ringer for a Death Eater, Harry was sure, from the dead look in his eyes, that now he was regretting that decision.

Malfoy grinned. "Potter."

Harry gulped. This could not end well. Neither he nor Neville had their wands raised, and Malfoy's was pointed straight at them. Stupid!

"Put your wands down," said Malfoy, "and come out here."

Harry and Neville threw to the side and began to walk out from behind the counter. Just as he was about to move out from behind it, however, Harry dropped the last little ball in his hand and tackled Neville to the ground. The explosion destroyed the counter, and it knocked Malfoy off his feet. Grabbing their wands, the boys ducked into the back room and were almost to the Floo before they heard screaming from the front room.

Cursing, Harry and Neville ran back into the front room in time to see Malfoy falling into a swirling black whirlpool that had appeared in midair. Neville, who was closer, jumped forward, trying to grab Malfoy's hand, but he missed, and was pulled into the whirlpool as well. Harry also sprang forward, but he was just a second too late. Before his hand could close on Neville's, the whirlpool seemed to swallow itself.

Mr. Weasley arrived with George about two seconds later. "What happened here?" he asked Harry.

Harry turned to George. "What was behind the counter that would have made a whirlpool if it blew up?" he asked.

George frowned. "We just had the explosives!" he said. "Oh, and the prototype time-turners, but they didn't work."

Harry fought to stay upright. The hourglasses weren't hourglasses at all. Time-Turners.

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The return to Hogwarts was very subdued. As soon as possible, Harry ran to Professor McGonagall's office, where he was hoping to corner her and demand that she do something to rescue Neville, but she wasn't there. Instead, he found the stone gargoyle open again, and he rode the staircase up in silence.

Inside the office, the portrait of Dumbledore was looking at him appraisingly.

"Harry," he asked, "what has happened?"

Harry scowled. "Neville's gone!" he yelled, "He fell into some whirlpool that appeared right where I blew up a bunch of Time-Turners and he's just gone!"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Harry," he said after a moment, "I am sorry to hear that. Neville was a brave and talented wizard."

"What do you mean, was?" asked Harry. "There has to be a way to get him back!"

"Oh," said Dumbledore's portrait, "I'm sure there is. But, Harry, in order to do that, one would need to know when he is. And there is no way. Neville could have been taken to any time, and unless he finds a way to let us know when he is, we will never be able to get him back."

"That's not good enough!" Harry was furious. He couldn't abandon Neville, he just couldn't...

"Harry," said the portrait, "I know that I'm not exactly what I was, but if you trusted me before I died, trust me now. Some things that are reversible should not be reversed."

Harry met the portrait's eyes for a moment before stomping off out of the office.