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01 September 1996 (Almost two months before Riddle's Interlude)

Harry had previously thought that he had gotten used to the stares. But as they fell through the barrier between the Muggle world and the magical world at King's Cross, Harry felt the weight of scrutiny from everyone on the platform. Students and parents alike turned to stare; some openly pointed, and the air buzzed with his own name. He heaved a sigh, and Ginny gripped his hand.

"Let's just get on the train," Harry mumbled.

"Harry," Ron looked around exaggeratedly. "I didn't think it was possible, but I think you're actually even more famous!"

Harry swore at him. They bickered (not entirely good-naturedly) as they loaded their trunks onto the train, and found an empty compartment. With a stroke of luck, Ernie MacMillan was loitering outside of a compartment full of Potter's Army members. His eyes widened when he saw Harry, but Harry gave a sharp shake of his head. Don't acknowledge me, he thought. Ernie looked puzzled, but kept his mouth shut.

"Room of Requirement," Harry said. "Tomorrow night."

Ernie nodded, and Harry and the others continued on without looking back.

"They're probably desperate for news," Hermione said quietly. "We haven't had a chance to see them or talk to them since last year."

"And the stupid Daily Prophet—"

"We know, Ron," Ginny said impatiently. All of them were extremely short on sleep and apt to snap at each other at a moment's notice. She yawned widely.

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the door. He whispered a word, and it made a squelching noise… he had sealed it so no one could enter without giving Harry advance warning. "I'm exhausted," he admitted. He also did not want to risk seeing Draco Malfoy. It had been confirmed the other day that Malfoy had participated in an attack against two Muggleborn students – Harry wondered if it hadn't been some sort of Death Eater initiation. The students were dead…

"Don't attack Malfoy," Ginny warned him. She had apparently been reading his mind. Harry looked down and saw that his fist was clenched tightly around his wand. That was probably pretty obvious, Harry thought ruefully. But instead of tracking down Malfoy and throwing him off the train, Harry settled himself against the window, closed his eyes, and fell asleep thinking of vengeance.

He felt groggy and disoriented when they finally got off the train. He barely had time to look around and catch his bearings before he was swept up into a bone-crushing hug. "Hagrid, no!" Harry hissed. He wrenched himself away, looking around frantically. If Malfoy had seen, Voldemort might have another target…

"I saw him coming and shielded you," Ron said quietly.

Hagrid looked completely bewildered. "What's goin' on?"

"People who like me end up dead," Harry said. "Listen – I can't explain anything here. I'll send – I'll send Luna Lovegood to you tomorrow. Follow her; we've got to explain a few things."

"Bu'—"

"Not here!" Harry said. A group of first years were watching them, young faces lit with avid curiosity. He forced himself to look furious. "Don't tell anyone," he said. "Don't tell anyone."

He strode away without looking back.

This was the only unplanned encounter that evening.

Harry paused just outside the massive doors, steeling himself against the stares he knew were about to follow. The last of the stragglers made their way in, and Harry rolled his eyes, preparing for the dramatic entrance he was about to make, and pushed open the doors with more force than was strictly necessary. Practically the entire school (except the first years waiting to be Sorted) was watching when the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor deliberately intercepted Harry as he made his way into the Great Hall.

"Harry Potter," Sirius said. Harry was a little frightened by how good of an actor Sirius appeared to be. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd be certain that Sirius was, in fact, trying to cozen up to him. "How are you, son?"

"Don't call me son," Harry spat. "My father never would have deserted your son, but he was twice the man you are…"

"Harry—"

"Get away from me," Harry practically yelled it, wanting the entire school to see this. "You betrayed me!"

"I know I was wrong"—Sirius' eyes twinkled. Don't start laughing, Sirius!—"but you have to admit that it looked pretty damning."

"That's funny, coming from you," Harry sneered. The crowd stirred. "Weren't you the one sent to Azkaban without a trial? You filthy hypocrite."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said loudly. His voice boomed down from the Head Table.

"And don't even get me started on you," Harry said. He was startled by the fact that he was actually enjoying himself. He had to admit – if only to himself – that he took great satisfaction in messing around a thousand people. "I've spent this entire summer thinking about this and—"

"You don't have to do it alone now," Sirius said. His lips were twitching, and Harry was glad that the other students were too far away to see.

"We've been doing just fine without you," Ron said. "Managed to survive Voldemort"—a great wind rushed through the hall as the students collectively gasped—"and the bastards at the Ministry just fine for an entire year, didn't we?"

Harry made a show of looking around the school. "Trying to relive the glory days, Sirius? You—"

"That is quite enough, Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall pushed through the sea of students who had unconsciously gathered around, watching the showdown. "Whatever personal issues you might have with Professor Black will not be addressed before the entire school."

"Professor Arsehole, you mean," Harry said. There was a smattering of laughter; Dean and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," she said promptly. "And detention with me tomorrow night at eight. My office."

Relieved that she had swallowed the bait so swiftly, Harry nodded swiftly. He made sure to roughly push by Sirius on his way to the Gryffindor table. He imagined that McGonagall's lips thinned even further, but she did not choose to say anything. He glanced over to the Hufflepuff table; Ernie stared at him, brow furrowed. Harry gave him a small grin, and shook his head.

"Well," Dumbledore said. "Now that drama is out of the way, before we eat, there are a few start of term announcements…"

Harry spent the next twenty four hours trying to appear surly, stand-offish, and put-upon. The members of Potter's Army who knew him well grew increasingly baffled. He had to admit that he'd gone a little overboard, but once the entire school figured out that he was filled with indignation at the fact that everyone had turned their backs on him, he figured he could ease up a little.

"Harry," Colin Creevey said at breakfast. "Would you like—"

"Don't talk to me," Harry said in a loud voice that would carry over to the Slytherin table. "You didn't seem so keen to talk to me last year."

"Yeah," Ron said belligerently. "Shove off, Creevey."

Harry seized his schedule from Professor McGonagall's hand, and glanced down at it. He had been cleared to take Potions, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes ("Thanks, Hermione," Harry said – he would not have passed that particular OWL without her intensive study methods.), Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms. "Why are we continuing with Ancient Runes again?"

"I dunno, mate," Ron said. "Because the girls are making us?"

"Your girl," Harry retorted. "Ginny wouldn't make us do this."

"Do you think they know we're sitting right here?" Ginny asked Hermione in a loud whisper.

Harry was relatively quiet in Ancient Runes, though he had a slight headache by the end of it. He wondered how Hermione had ever thought that he'd be able to pass the NEWTs in this subject. He stared glumly at his text, and thought he might ask McGonagall if he could withdraw from it.

None of the professors said much at all to Harry – he supposed that his sullen and angry demeanor put them off. He was careful to only say rude things to the members of Potter's Army that he had classes with (though he ignored Daphne Greengrass completely)… with one exception.

It happened that Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione met Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle as they left the Great Hall just after dinner. Harry felt a twist of disgust as he watched Malfoy strut as if he owned the castle. His robes covered his left arm, but Harry knew that the Dark Mark was there. He drew his wand.

Draco smirked, obviously under the impression that Harry would not dare do anything under the watchful eyes of so many people. "How'd you enjoy your exile, Potter?"

Harry pretended to think. "Almost as much as I enjoyed sending your dad to Azkaban, Malfoy. Though I think," he tipped his head at Crabbe and Goyle, "that I enjoyed the fact that Voldemort keeps offing his own followers for me… makes my job a lot easier…"

"Go away, you foul git," Ron said. "Scamper off…"

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to say something further. Harry wanted him to say something further. Give me an excuse, Malfoy, Harry said. Just one little excuse… But Malfoy did not want to play; he backed away toward the door. Crabbe and Goyle – who were, apparently, too thick to realize that Harry had just told them he was glad their dads were dead – followed him.

Ginny entwined her fingers with his. "Want to go to the Room of Requirement?" she whispered. She was not quiet enough.

"That's what we were going to do," said Ron.

"I said it first," Ginny said smugly.

"I already convinced Hermione," Ron hissed. "Don't even try—"

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, and Harry decided that Hermione's need to be in a completely secure environment while she and Ron had sex was greater than his own. He tugged on Ginny's hand, and pulled her to the doors that led outside. "I'm feeling a little adventurous," Harry breathed into her ear. "Let's go explore those secluded areas."

He and Ginny parted company ten minutes before his detention with Professor McGonagall. With a promise that he would see her as quickly as possible, he turned down the corridor that led to his Head's office, and she made her way up the stairs to the Room of Requirement. He watched as Dean, Neville, and Seamus followed her at some distance, then he turned and walked away.

Professor Dumbledore was already there, though Harry could tell immediately that McGonagall was still in the dark about what was going on. Her eyes flashed at him. "Sit down, Potter," she said in a clipped voice.

Harry sat, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. They wanted to stage the arrivals of the other professors, so that it happened at the same time. Sirius had said that he'd get Sprout and Flitwick there at eight-fifteen, and Luna knew when to bring Hagrid. He sighed. He would have to endure five minutes of lecture.

"Mr. Potter, I realize that you have endured a great trial in the last year," Professor McGonagall said. Her voice had softened somewhat. "But rudeness to a professor – or to the headmaster – cannot and will not be tolerated."

Harry squirmed, and cut a glare at Dumbledore. He appeared to be enjoying himself. "I'll – er – try to tone it down, Professor."

"Do so," she said. Then, after a moment of hesitation, "Potter, I am glad that you have been… exonerated, but I have to wonder where you've been all this time? Why didn't you try to explain to the Ministry?"

"Professor, tell me, did you like Dolores Umbridge?" Harry asked. "Did you think she was a good person? The Ministry is full of people like her… and the rest of them are Voldemort's. Precious few of them would've listened to me."

He stood up. "I—"

"Your detention is not yet finished, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said.

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "we're just going to move it."

"I don't understand, Albus," McGonagall said. Harry opened the door and peered around it.

"You will, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "But for the moment, pretend that you do."

McGonagall looked extremely suspicious, but she did not say a word as the three of them walked out of her office and headed up to the seventh floor corridor. Harry saw the hem of Professor Sprout's robes before it vanished inside, and he held out his hand to stop the door from closing, while Dumbledore ensured that the corridor was completely empty.

"Hey, guys," Harry said. An overwhelming racket greeted him.

"Harry, what the hell—"

"—since when do you hate Sirius?"

"Where are we? I've never seen this place before!" Professor Flitwick squeaked.

"I'm so confused—"

"What was up with you saying—"

Harry held up his hand. "Sorry, everyone. I know I've been an arse all day, but I've got a good reason." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "You just asked me where I stayed last year?" He pointed at Sirius. "I stayed with my godfather."

Her eyebrows slammed together. "But you were—"

"My godson," Sirius said proudly, "is playing the world's greatest prank on Voldemort."

Flitwick squeaked.

"What?" Hagrid said. "Bu'—"

"Voldemort," Harry said. "Voldemort is pretty convinced that I'm alone – except for Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Moody, and Percy Weasley. We're going to let him keep thinking that, because if he gets overconfident he'll be careless."

"And we need him as careless as we can get him," Ron said.

"I don't understand," McGonagall looked around the room. "Miss Lovegood… Mr. Longbottom – I thought you severed all ties with Mr. Potter and the others—"

"Of course not," Neville said loudly. "We knew who killed my gran and her dad. We never thought it was Harry. We've been pretending for all the Slyth"—Daphne smacked him in the stomach—"er, sorry, Daphne. There are children of Death Eaters here, and we couldn't risk them telling their parents what was going on."

"Like I said," Sirius said. "World's biggest prank."

"I told Dumbledore what had happened the night Voldemort returned as soon as I was able," Harry said. "And we've working to defeat him ever since."

"And we've been training with Dumbledore and Sirius – er, Professor Black – and Remus since last fall," Ernie McMillan said. "We're Potter's Army."

"How come I wasn' asked ter join Potter's Army?" Hagrid asked, injured.

"It wasn't safe," Neville said. "We only took people who doubted what the Ministry was saying, especially since Harry here came to Hogwarts three times a week."

"Not that we didn't trust you, Hagrid," Harry hastened to add. "We just thought it was a little risky."

Harry fielded questions from the bewildered teachers for the next twenty minutes. He was relieved when none of them questioned the lie they had told. When he had satisfied them enough with answers, he asked, "would you like to see what we learned last year?"

"They're quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Sirius said proudly. "They're going to show up all their classmates, that's for damn sure."

"I'm tired of all this waiting," Ron said quietly, while the members of Potter's Army lined up to face each other and duel. The teachers, who still looked rather dumbstruck and confused, gaped at the abilities of the students. It was one thing to know on an intellectual level that they had had private instruction with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus three times a week over the last year, but it was quite another to see it in action. Harry felt like he was watching through their eyes, and found that he was amazed.

"What?" Harry said. "Oh… waiting. Yeah."

"You're a lot more patient than you used to be, Harry," Ron said. "Maybe you would have done well in Slytherin."

Harry shrugged. "I think we both would've, if Slytherin weren't full of baby Death Eaters like Malfoy. But we probably would've killed them long ago."

Ron laughed. "True."

"And I'm being patient because I have to be," Harry said. He was still furious about what had happened in Diagon Alley; it seemed to have settled into his bones. But he could wait until the time was right. Snape would know… they would hear about the next major strike, and they would be waiting for it when it happened. "I haven't given up on killing Death Eaters, Ron. I keep seeing that little boy and his family, and sometimes I think that I could do it without a wand."

"You've learned some pretty scary control," Ron said. "I hate to think of what would happen if you lost it."

"I hate to think about what might cause it," Harry replied. He looked over at Ginny, who helped Hannah Abbott with the complicated wand movement required to perfect the Malady Curse. If anything happened to Ginny… he did not know what he would do. Or if anything happened to Ron, Hermione, Neville, or Luna. Sirius. Remus. Percy. Even the other Weasleys. Dumbledore and Snape. Harry had already lost all of them once, and he honestly did not know how he would react to any one of them dying again.

Harry's greatest flaw as someone who was leading others into war was the fact that he would rather take on every enemy alone. He did not want anyone to be hurt… he did not want to be responsible for people dying. Even after all these years, the thought of Ginny battling against Death Eaters and risking death filled him with a cold sense of dread. He tried not to let her see this, but he suspected she knew. Sometimes he thought that she knew him better than he knew himself.

Her long hair danced behind her, like tongues of flame. He did not think she was Merlin. Oh, he knew she was capable of doing something extremely risky – how could he not be? But his instincts told him that this was not her style. And he was beginning to suspect… he was beginning to suspect that he was Merlin.

The suspicion had been sparked by his conversation with Ginny in which she admitted that she thought she was Merlin. It would make sense if it was Harry. His future self would not want to risk a time paradox, which could be why he had been disguised so heavily in the Department of Mysteries. It explained how he had known exactly what to do when the dementors had come…

But how far into the future was he (if it was Harry) coming from? It was before his final confrontation with Voldemort… dead men could not travel back in time, after all. And he knew, without even having to think about it, that he would not be able to stand before Voldemort's curse if Ginny was dead. He would wait… he would travel back to save her—

"Harry?" Ron said. "You're looking a bit funny, mate."

Harry shook his head forcefully. "I'm all right."

HPHPHPHPHPHP

17 October 1996

Hamish Wentworth was a deeply unpleasant man, and Harry could not help but feel slightly glad that he was going to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort. The man was tall, had the nose of an eagle, and worked in the Department of Mysteries, studying death. Over the last six months, the wizard had taken a less passive role in his researches, and the deaths of three Muggles had been directly attributed to him.

The others were equally culpable, and grim satisfaction washed over Harry. He had been itching to retaliate against the Death Eaters since he had watched the small family in Diagon Alley die. The month that had elapsed since then had gone by with the speed of a glacier, despite the fact that preparing sanctuaries all across Britain was a logistical nightmare. But he was only involved in the periphery of it – Albus and Mrs. Weasley were truly in charge of the project.

Harry grinned over at Ron. "It feels good to be doing something, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes," Ron said fervently. He kicked out, and Uther Gamp whimpered. "That didn't even hurt," Ron said, disgusted. "Not like the Cruciatus, anyway."

"Can we stop taunting them now?" Snape said in a bored voice. Not that he looked like Snape; he was currently disguised as a blond young man with wide brown eyes and a paunchy middle. It was a bit disconcerting to hear Snape's sardonic tone coming from a gormless college student's mouth.

Harry shrugged, checking his watch. "We've still got half an hour."

"And it's a great way to release tension," Ron said.

"Don't you have a girlfriend for that?" asked Snape, curling his lip.

Hermione made a strangled sound. Bill and Charlie laughed loudly. "Just… just shut up."

The cottage in which they kept the prisoners that Moody had procured for them was alive with the familiar symphony of terror, purpose, and elation. It was also a full operation. Every member of the Order of the Phoenix over the age of seventeen (and some under) from Albus Dumbledore to Molly Weasley to Mundungus Fletcher was there. Most would fight, though Mrs. Weasley and Elphias Doge were to stay behind to make sure that the prisoners did not escape until Harry was ready to send them back to Voldemort.

Hermione stood in front of Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George, her brow furrowed with concentration; her anger with them for embarrassing her had obviously fled. Bill's nose lengthened, his eyes became wide-set and faded to a murky, grey-brown. Harry watched, interested, as Bill became the image of Hamish Wentworth. Hermione was an artist with transfiguration… but she was taking too long.

"Allow me, Hermione?" Dumbledore murmured. "Excellent job, but for the sake of time…"

By the time Hermione had completed Bill and Fred, Charlie and George had also been transformed. Snape handed them a small dosage of Polyjuice Potion – the first part of the plan involved them appearing like Muggles from the village – and the four Weasleys transformed again.

"Remember the plan," Harry said. He glanced at his watch again. Ten minutes… they had to leave now. One by one, the others began to disappear as they placed themselves under the Disillusionment Charm. Harry tapped himself on the head, and watched his body blend in with the surroundings. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them off on his robes before he snatched up Ginny's hand, turned on the spot, and found himself on the hill overlooking the village that was to be attacked.

It was broad daylight. Cars drove slowly down the narrow streets; it was Sunday, and few people were out and about. The air around Harry stirred as Sturgis Podmore, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, and Hestia Jones immediately strode toward the village. Harry could see the shimmer of the charms of protection they cast. It was not perfect… Harry knew that it was unlikely that everyone would survive. But he would make certain that the casualties would be minimal.

The ground trembled beneath his feet. Giants. He had known it, but when he saw what appeared to be buildings lumbering forward from the opposite side of the village, his heart skipped. The Death Eaters who flew on brooms beside the giants looked tiny.

"Let's go," Harry said.

Ginny marched beside him. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her hand in his, and he could smell that fresh, flowery scent. He worried that today would be the day that set the events in motion that caused him to go back in time to save her. What if today is the day that she dies and I become Merlin? Harry thought morbidly. He wanted to ask her to leave, to go help her mother watch over the prisoners. But he couldn't ask her to do that when she cared just as much as he did. It wouldn't be right of him to lock her away.

"I see thirteen Death Eaters," Ron said.

"I see two giants," Ginny said grimly.

Harry stood on the road heading into the village, waiting for the signal. He gripped his Firebolt tightly. The ground trembled in earnest, and a young man actually stopped his car and got out. "Earthquake!" he shouted to no one.

"Imperio!" Ron pointed his wand at him, and the man immediately began to walk away from the village. "I sent him to hide," Ron explained.

Harry nodded. He was about to check his watch again when red sparks shot into the air at the same moment the Anti-Apparition wards went up. "Leave one alive," Harry reminded them.

Harry released the Disillusionment Charm, mounted his broom, and shot up into the sky. Ginny and Ron came up on either side of him, while Fred and George flew underneath, racing each other to the Death Eaters who had not yet noticed them. Charlie swerved around in an arc, aiming for their backs.

Two figures hurtled off their brooms and fell screaming before the Death Eaters realized they had company. "Incendio!" Harry shouted, and another Death Eater fell in a swirl of flames. Their advantage was swiftly lost as the Death Eaters regrouped.

"IT'S POTTER!" one of them shouted. "ALERT THE DARK LORD!"

Harry watched, swerving and diving around curses, while Stan Shunpike pressed his Dark Mark. He felt a mild pang of surprise -- Stan really was a Death Eater -- but it was lost in his satisfaction that Dumbledore had prevented them from using their marks to call Voldemort to this battle.

Four Death Eaters broke away from the others, as Harry had known they would. He ignored them – the others were protecting the Muggles, and Bill and Hermione were perfectly capable – and focused his attention on the remaining six. "Sectumsempra!" he shouted. There was a spray of blood that glinted in the sunlight, and the woman fell from her broom with a gargling rattle.

Ginny's hex lifted a heavy man from his broom, and sent him flying backward. He landed on the roof of a home, and was splayed. His limbs were bent at unnatural angles… Harry watched him twitch, but wasn't too worried. A man with his neck almost twisted off wouldn't be much use even with a wand.

At that moment, the Polyjuice Potion faded away. Fred laughed at Stan's shout. "UTHER!"

"It's me," Fred said.

"You – you're—"

Harry tore away through the air before Stan stopped sputtering with shock. The Muggles had noticed that their village was now the site of what must be terrifying and confusing. The giants wreaked havoc through the town. The screams from the ground sounded eerie in Harry's ears.

"Uther!" Harry yelled. "Banson! To me!"

Fred and George followed; they left Stan bound to the top of the church spire. The other giant was now on the opposite side of the village. Harry saw Charlie sending curses after curses at it, though they bounced off the giant's thick skin. "Try it your way!" Harry bellowed. The twins laughed.

George pulled a firework out of his robes, and slowed down so that he kept pace with the giant. "BANSON, LOOK OUT!" Fred shouted, and George narrowly missed decapitation by severed billboard.

Harry cast a Bludgeoning Curse directly at the giant's temple. It barely fazed him, but it turned toward Harry, mouth gaping open—

And George tossed the lit firework inside it.

"Incendio!" Fred shouted.

Harry dodged as smelly chunks of brain and bone rained down on him, pelting his body with bits of giant. "WATCH OUT!" he shouted, for the benefit of whoever might be underneath the feet of the toppling giant. It swayed for on its legs, the body not yet aware that the head had just exploded.

"THAT – WAS – AWESOME!" Fred shouted, as the giant crashed through a storefront, blood still leaking out of the jagged wound of its neck.

"IT'S WORTH THE EAU DE GIANT SMELL!" George yelled back. They pushed their brooms and raced to Charlie and his giant.

Harry laughed, and then spotted a black-cloaked figure raising its wand at the gas main of a home. He looked around… sure enough, three other homes were burning. The wards and charms that the other members of the Order of the Phoenix had cast would not help against this. I wonder where the Death Eater learned this trick… a Muggle grandparent?

Before he could kill the bastard, Hermione sprinted out from between two houses, and slashed him from throat to sternum. "Nice aim, Hermione!" he yelled, as he flew above her. The sirens were wailing louder and louder; he was not sure that she had heard him.

He came upon Bill the next street over. He was dueling with another Death Eater – the last one left, besides Stan – and smashed him with a concrete planter before Harry could try to help. Harry landed and hit the ground running. "Fly by the church spire," he said. "The Death Eater is up there."

Harry glanced at his watch. Has it really only been fifteen minutes? He Disillusioned himself, and hurried to the rendezvous point. When had he last seen Ginny? She'd killed the Death Eater… He broke into a quick trot, willing her to be there before he was, if only to reassure himself.

The grass was flattened, and he knew that several people were already waiting. "Ginny?"

"Harry!" she said.

"Did you see the giant?" Ron asked. "I'm going to watch that memory over and over again in the Pensieve…"

"I was there," Harry told him.

"It was ingenious," Dumbledore said.

"Our fireworks are very strong," Fred said modestly.

"Only the best for giant-slaying," George said robustly.

Harry laughed, but stopped immediately when hasty footsteps – several more people were arriving – reached them.

"Podmore and Vance are dead," Moody interrupted bluntly. "Saw it happen myself. The Death Eater that was blowing up the houses got them too."

The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach, and Ginny gripped his elbow tightly. "Oh no," she said. Harry could not make himself speak. He did not want to admit, even to himself, that he had not expected casualties. Giants – despite Fred and George's methods – were tricky and extremely difficult to kill. They did not need magic or weapons to fight, though the damage they had done with their clubs was severe; they only needed to step on a fragile human body to end a life.

"Does anyone know how many Muggles?" Ron asked in a hoarse voice.

"I would say twenty or more," Kingsley said. "The Death Eater that caused the houses to explode… he did a lot of damage. Has anyone seen Hermione? She was running after him—"

"He's dead," Hermione said in a low voice. "I killed him."

Someone – Bill, Harry presumed – landed with a thud. "I regret to inform you that Stan Shunpike has escaped. Is everyone accounted for?"

"Everyone but Sturgis and Emmeline," Charlie said.

"What—"

"We have to go," Tonks said urgently. "The Ministry will be here any minute."

Harry turned on the spot, and Apparated back to the small cottage that currently housed their prisoners. Mrs. Weasley screamed as soon as they appeared and Disillusioned themselves. I can't imagine that we look – or smell – very decent, Harry thought grimly. Now that the battle fury had started to wear off, he felt sick at the smell.

"Scourgify!" Ginny said, and some of the worst of the mess vanished, though Harry knew that he would never wear these robes again. He wiped at a smear of grey matter on his front.

"Fuck the Ministry," Ron said loudly. Even Harry was startled; this had apparently come out of nowhere. "We're fighting – and dying," he said angrily. "And it'll be Diagon Alley all over again in the Daily Prophet. 'There was a slight altercation, but never fear, the Ministry was able to minimize damage…'"

"It almost makes me wish the Minister was a Death Eater," Mr. Weasley said. He had burned his hand, and Mrs. Weasley was wrapping it for him. "Then we'd have a legitimate reason to go after him."

"Changing your tune a bit, aren't you, Dad?" Ron asked. "I seem to remember you being pretty concerned when I said something similar to Harry about Lockhart."

Harry felt slightly sick at the look on Mr. Weasley's face before he turned away. But how could he say anything to Ron? That would make him the worst sort of hypocrite. He cast around for a change of topic once the silence had swelled to an almost painful intensity. Ron stared at his father, as if wanting a confrontation. But Mr. Weasley sat with his head bowed, and did not say a word.

"Ron," Harry said. "What if we gave the public the truth? What if we gave them something like"—he lowered his voice, aware of the presence of those Order members who did not know the full truth—"Potterwatch?"