A/N: I am sorry about the delay, people, but life is more than busy at the moments. For update information, previews and reasons why this chapter took me so long, please check my life journal (click on the link "homepage" on my profile page). That is also the place where you can find the link to the yahoogroup "The Goblets", to vote for my fic if you wish to...

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Twice the Power Must Be Forged

"Something happened with Hermione?" Fred asked as the twins, Ron, Harry and Draco lounged on the sofas in Headquarters, waiting for the full Saturday meeting to begin. Well, "lounging" fitted only some of them, as Draco sat perfectly straight and Harry was making at least an effort to keep his spine vertical.

At Fred's question, he snapped to attention immediately.

"Why would you think that?" He asked, careful to let neither his surprise nor his worry show. He threw a glance at Hermione, who didn't look unusually tense or exhausted as she stood with Mad-Eye Moody, probably discussing strategy or some aspect of fighting practice. If anything had changed since the last full meeting, it was that she appeared fiercer, more determined and self confident.

"Mother," George answered simply. "The illustrious Mrs Weasley is shooting worried glances at Hermione and apologizing ones at Snape. If there was a kitchen nearby, she would probably have cooked a full meal for them already."

Harry was surprised. He hadn't suspected the twins able of such subtlety. But then he turned his head to where Mrs Weasley hovered anxiously, not quite besides Hermione but never far from her, and decided that he had to rephrase his thought. "Subtlety" would have meant noticing the way Severus' behaviour was alternating from smug, because he had forced her to rest, and overprotective, because he wanted her to rest more. Noticing Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, was simply inevitable.

"Did something happen?" Ron asked again, and Harry glanced at Draco, who blinked an agreement. They would find out anyway, if not during the Order meeting then from their mother and father. Better to tell them now and stop them from confronting Hermione with their knowledge.

"Hermione was ambushed Thursday evening by rogue Death Eaters," He explained, making sure to keep his voice light and neutral. "They beat her within an inch of her life, but she managed to get away by killing the two that held her down. Severus and Professor McGonagall healed her. It was a close call, though."

Harry noticed that Ron was twitching nervously, as he always did when Harry used Severus' name so casually these days.

"When she woke up from that, she went back to Voldemort and tricked him into killing all six attackers."

The twins' jaws had dropped at this explanation.

"Great Merlin," Fred exclaumed and turned around to stare at Hermione. His gesture was painfully obvious but Hermione pretended not to notice. Her eyes seemed to meet Harry's entirely by accident, and the nod that told him she accepted and supported his decision to inform them seemed to be directed at Moody.

"She looks great! There's no way she nearly died on Thursday," George protested now.

"No one heals that quickly. She doesn't even look stressed!"

"She's still standing," Ron, who had gone very pale at the news, murmured quietly. "And she's got Snape."

The twins turned to their younger brother so utterly nonplussed that Draco couldn't suppress an amused snort. Harry decided that he had to rephrase his thoughts, again. It seemed that there was at least one member of the Weasley family who had learned subtlety.

Dumbledore called the beginning of the meeting shortly thereafter, and Harry was glad that the barrel of questions from the twins was ended. Although he knew them to be fierce warriors and magical geniuses, sometimes he couldn't help thinking that they all considered this nothing but one large adventure. He and Ron had done that, too, a few times in the past, but that had ended irreversibly when Cedric had died.

And now that Hermione had entered her two edged game…

"Let me begin this Order meeting," Dumbledore started once they had all taken their seats and quieted down. "By conveying great praise from our fighting instructors," He nodded towards Moody, Severus and Remus. "All of them are more than satisfied with how our plans and preparations are progressing, and wish to congratulate you on your ability and diligence."

Harry found it hard to believe that Severus would congratulate anyone on that, and when he looked over to their Spymaster, he saw a mocking smile play on his lips. Severus must have noticed Harry's eyes on him, for he suddenly met his gaze and the smile widened. Harry frowned. There was something else behind that smile, he was sure…

Dumbledore's next announcement told him exactly what it was that had made Snape grin like a cat after the kill.

"And to further ensure our safety, Severus has graciously agreed to teach both Ronald and Harry the necessary Occlumency skills to keep Voldemort from their mind…"

"No way!" Ron interrupted him, jumping up from his chair, his face displaying nothing but pure panic. Harry had no problems understanding him. Even he felt uneasy at the thought, and Severus had acted tolerably around him for some time now, while he had been nastier to Ron over the last months than he had ever been with Harry, even during their worst times.

"Why do I have to learn that," Ron protested now loudly. "I won't spy on him or anything, and Snape would only make me…"

"Ron. Sit down," Hermione's voice, calm and quiet and pure steel. Ron's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and the unimaginable happened: He sat down without another word. Harry could see utter surprise spread on the faces of every Weasley in the room, and even on that of many teachers. They had never seen Ron that compliant.

But they had never put memories of the Cruciatus curse into his mind, either.

"Of course you won't spy or have any unnecessary contact with Voldemort," Hermione explained now patiently, but with an edge to her voice that told him she would not tolerate Gryffindor stupidity in this.

Did I think "Gryffindor stupidity" just now? At least Draco didn't hear that one.

"But there will be a few seconds when you confront Voldemort without me or the Order diverting his attention from you. He is a master Legilimens, and if he plucks even a hint of our plan from your minds, he will apparate away and everything will be over. We can't risk that. And that means that you and Harry must learn at least the basic steps of protecting your mind."

"But we have that spell of yours to protect our minds!" Ron protested, surprising Harry by his ability to argue even in the face of looming disaster.

"If we keep that spell active during our final confrontation, the first attempt to enter your mind will wipe it absolutely clean from classified information," Hermione answered. "You will stand at Tintagel without knowing what you are doing there, and why. Both of you will be totally useless, which is the same reason why I do not use that spell for myself. You will have to act in the face of Voldemort, and you will have to convince him that you are just two harmless students waiting there for the sake of a friendship ritual."

For a moment, it looked as if Ron wanted to disagree, but then he obviously decided that he couldn't win against Hermione. Not ever.

"Why can't you teach us, then?" He asked instead, but less stubborn than desperate.

"I don't have the time," Hermione answered regretfully. "And even if I could spare the hours, I don't have the slightest idea how to teach it. And believe me, you wouldn't want to learn it the way I did. It wasn't pleasant."

Harry wanted to argue that learning from Severus wasn't pleasant either, but then he remembered something about a boggart taking on Voldemort's form and torturing Hermione for information, and closed his mouth again. Besides, he wouldn't risk Severus' good will just to make a point.

He looked over to Severus and saw smug satisfaction glinting in his eyes. Without wanting to, he remembered the misery that had been his first Occlumency lessons, and as he turned to Hermione, she chuckled, obviously noticing the plea in his eyes.

"But I could certainly participate in the first few lessons, couldn't I, Severus?" She asked lightly. "After all, having two Occlumenses working together makes teaching a lot easier."

Harry turned his head towards Severus and saw a slightly disappointed expression, or at least he believed he saw it, as if the little bird had flown away the second before the cat had reached it.

"That sounds great," He said, relieved.

"If that is decided," Dumbledore took over again. "Let us summarize the events of the week. Nymphadora, if you would begin?"

It took more than an hour to collect every member's report and bring them all up to date, although Harry noticed that Dumbledore was hurrying them along more than usually. Personally, he would have preferred everyone to take as much time as possible – every additional report given would delay the minute when he would have to step up and present their project in front of these brilliant and/or much older people.

But as it always did when one was uneasy, time sped up and before he had prepared for it, Dumbledore's kind voice addressed him and Draco.

"You will all remember the idea Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy presented to us a few weeks ago and to which we agreed most happily. Today I have the pleasure to announce that they finished their work on the false prophecy and are ready inform us. If you would, gentlemen…"

"Right," Harry said and rose from his chair, sharing a nervous look with Draco, who just looked smug and cocked an eyebrow. But of course, he had been educated to attend pureblood dinners since the age of five. This meeting of what his father would have called "muggle-loving fools" couldn't affect his as severely as it would Harry.

"You all know the original prophecy, but I will still repeat it, to make comparison easier," He took a deep breath, feeling uneasy and slightly overwhelmed as he always did when the prophecy was mentioned. He still hadn't come to terms completely with being the Chosen One.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either mast die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

He stopped, and let his eyes wander around the table. Hermione smiled at him and Severus sent a look that could be considered encouraging from any other man.

"As you are aware," He continued. "Voldemort knows the first half of the prophecy. That's why we won't change it. But I think we have found a wording that will encourage him to believe Halloween his best chance to defeat me, without losing the ambivalence of the usual prophecy. Draco?"

Draco nodded, and stood. They were standing nearly opposite each other, and Harry found that his queasiness subsided a bit when he looked at the Slytherin.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…" Harry began again, but this time it was Draco who took up the sentence and finished the new born prophecy for them.

„And the Dark Lord will lose his power," He said slowly, his voice lending the words a strange gravity, as if it was really a prophecy he was uttering. „But ere long he will regain it… Twice the power must be forged, on an ancient night at an ancient place, then the one who lived will fall, and the one who never died will triumph. And none shall defeat him thereafter, for in the earth lies his power. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."

When Draco had finished and settled down in his chair again, silence was still reigning among the Order members. Harry saw Hermione nodding in thoughtful satisfaction, doubtless once more repeating the whole thing in her mind, picking every sentence, every word apart in search of hidden meanings they hadn't anticipated.

Despite his initial nervousness, Harry found that he had relaxed while Draco had recited their forgery. They had spent hours on this, and cross-checked both with the Headmaster, Hermione and Severus. The result was flawless.

„Sounds good," Moody finally grumbled after having finished his own, silend check of their prophecy, and nods around the table told him that the rest of the Order agreed.

„So what's going to be done with it?"

It was Dumbledore who answered. „The wording of this prophecy will be sent to a trustworthy… craftsman, a contact of Severus. He should produce a satisfactory fake prophecy that even Sybil wouldn't be able to tell from a real one."

Harry heard a most degrading comment on Sybil Trelawney's abilities from his left, uttered in the silky tones of his former Potions Master, and had to hide a grin. If there was anything Severus enjoyed most about not being a teacher anymore, it had to be the freedom of openly criticizing and belittling most of his former colleagues.

Only Professor McGonagall and Flitwick, as well as Remus, were luckily except from this rain of insults.

„If he keeps what he promised," Severus continued, and the dark tone in his voice promised woe if said craftsman wouldn't comply. "The fake prophecy will be ready for Voldemort's summer ball."

"Summer ball?" Tonks asked sceptically, probably finding it as difficult as Harry to imagine Death Eaters celebrating the warm, flowery season of the year.

"A highly traditional festivity," Severus answered. "The first part of the ball is a masquerade, giving the Inner and Outer Circle a chance to mingle without revealing their identities. The second part is for Inner Circle members only, and it consists of certain… rituals."

The way he pronounced the last word told them clearly that they didn't want to inquire about the nature of those rituals, and even Mrs Weasly kept quiet for once.

"I hope to offer the prophecy to the Dark Lord at the very beginning of the ball," Hermione continued calmly. "That way, he will have a whole night of festivities to think about it, before I will offer my solution to the obvious dilemma."

"You mean how anybody could bring Harry to an ancient place on either Halloween, Christmas or Beltane when he knows that Voldemort will be able to defeat him there and then?" Moody asked. "I find it hard to believe myself."

Harry nearly caught his breath. That was the one weakness in their plan. They had considered letting Hermione pretend that she had changed his memory. But the likelihood of the prophecy being mentioned around him over the next months simply would have been too great, and Voldemort might have found it too risky to base his plan on the feeble hope that no one would talk to Harry about it.

So they would have to rely on the Dark Lord's belief in himself and Hermione's ability to convince with the help of what she had strangely enough called "headology", adding with a little chuckle that it was "a witch's fiercest weapon".

"Harry has been foolish and headstrong in the past," Severus offered silkily. Harry winced. Not that he had needed that reminder of his past stupidities. But at least Severus hadn't phrased his words in present tense. A feeble silver lining was better than nothing.

"And that is the impression of Harry we have been cultivating over the last months," Hermione agreed. "We have staged impulsive fights, phases of sulking and unprovoked anger. I have reported on every incident in detail and added certain elements. As far as the Dark Lord knows, Harry is a moody teenager just waiting his chance to escape from the custody of the Headmaster, alternating between his fear of dying and his wish to be normal."

She smiled at Harry, who nodded his acceptance. After all those years, it was still hard to admit that he was anything but normal. But having extraordinary friends like her and Draco certainly made it easier to accept that fate.

"And you really think that You Know Who will base his plan on the moods of a teenager?" Mrs Weasley asked, scepticism in her voice showing clearly that she had learned not to trust teenager moods in her years as mother.

"Yes," Hermione answered simply and Severus nodded his agreement. When that didn't seem enough to convince Mrs Weasley, she sighed and shifted a bit in her chair. "I know the Dark Lord," She said quietly. "We both do." She shared another unreadable look with Severus, then turned her head back to the Weasley matriarch to continue.

"Like Harry, he has been headstrong and rash. But with Lord Voldemort, this rashness was the foundation of his power. He hated feeling inferior and helpless, and thus he opened the Chamber of Secrets and threatened mudbloods." She used the word without blinking, as if it was just a normal part of everyday conversation.

"He hated his father and killed him before he even left school. He hates muggleborns and has pursued them ever since."

"And he never listened to counsellors," Severus continued her explanation without missing a beat. "He won't believe that Harry does so, that he confides in other people than Mr Weasley and Hermione, which, he thinks, will both support this plan, mad as it is."

"All in all, he won't find it hard to imagine that Harry will meet us at Tintagel, not after the picture I painted of the Boy Who Lived and his terribly confined life at Hogwarts," Hermione took over again. "But of course it depends on the way I will offer him the information."

"Do you really think you can fool Voldemort into taking up your plan?" Shacklebolt now asked, not quite voicing his disbelief.

Hermione grinned. "I tricked all of you into accepting Draco, didn't I?" She answered, and the discussion was over.

The fake prophecy was followed up by a presentation of the fighting practice schedules. The assessment of their abilities, strengths and weaknesses had been completed, and now Remus spent a good ten minutes of detailing his plans for the next weeks.

It seemed rather anticlimactic to Harry, but then he was glad to relax and tune out the Order's voices for the moment. The mentioning of his name tore him from his thoughts. Obviously, they had reached the last – and to him most interesting – topic of the day. The ball that would hopefully give Hermione a chance to spy on Dougall.

"Apart from me and Harry, whose presence was requested by Aberforth, we have decided to take Remus and Minerva with us. Severus will be along as well, of course," Dumbledore was saying. "It won't be surprising that three teachers accompany me, and Harry will thus be guarded safely all the time."

Harry grimaced. Sometimes, he felt like the Philosopher's Stone, to be protected and kept safe like this. He caught Draco's slightly mocking expression from the other side of the room, and sent a scowl back. Draco was just jealous that he couldn't accompany them and watch Harry "embarrass himself and his house forever", as the Slytherin had nicely phrased it yesterday, when they had practiced dancing. Not that Harry planned on dancing with anybody tonight.

"From what Severus told me, I understand that he and Miss Granger have worked on a plan that will acquire a short moment of assistance from Remus and Harry, but nothing else?" Dumbledore continued, and Hermione nodded her affirmation.

"The only thing left to discuss are the details of Dougall's taste and the interior design of the ballroom," She said.

"I am happy to inform you fully on the detailed description my brother offered me," The Headmaster told her with a smile. "Aberforth will decorate the room in the traditional Dumbledore colours, dark brown and gold, and the liveries will sport the same colour combination."

"Do you have samples?" Hermione asked and accioed the small pieces of cloth Dumbledore produced. Snape did not even lift his head from yet another one of his infamous reports. Clearly, he intended to leave this thing entirely to Hermione.

Thoughtfully, Hermione nodded as if the samples were whispering secrets to her.

"Most people will choose darker, restrained colours in those surroundings. Is there a panelling in your brother's ballroom, Professor?"

"Oak," Dumbledore nodded serenely. "Rather reddish oak, due to an accident when we were younger…"

"You will advise your brother to dress darkly, and our company will choose nothing lighter than dark red. That goes for you, too, Headmaster," Hermione added with a stern look to Dumbledore.

"Certainly, my dear," He agreed happily. "But might I inquire why?"

"Because I will wear scarlet, and I should be the most noticeable person in the room. Did you find out about Dougall's preferences, Bill?"

Hermione had taken over the meeting completely, and to his astonishment Harry found that the quarrelsome Order accepted her leadership without the slightest hesitation. Perhaps it was the texture of her voice, that undertone that told them she would tolerate no waste of time, perhaps it was the way she looked, as if she would never expect anybody to disagree with her. Be it what it may, Bill was reporting to her as if he was reading out his homework to Minerva.

"I did as you proposed and asked his secretary if her boss wasn't interested in a beautiful woman like her, and she said no, for the love of God, she had made quite sure that she wasn't his type before she took the job. It seems that he is fixed on blonde, tall women with… big breasts," He finished, blushing violently. Molly Weasley sent him a disapproving look and Minerva suddenly seemed vastly interested in the view out of the east window.

"What exactly does "big" mean, Bill?" Hermione asked as if she was talking about apples and melons. Bill's blush deepened.

"Gods, I don't know, Hermione, it's not as if I could ask her to draw it out for me, could I?"

Hermione sighed as Minerva would when an essay wasn't done to her expectations. "How big were his secretary's breasts then? He must like them decidedly bigger, or he wouldn't mind her hair colour or size."

When Hermione had finished her sentence, Bill's hair was contrasting rather awfully with the colour of his face.

"Ahmmm… of the middle size, I think," He tried, his eyes darting from his mother to Minerva in quick succession. Remus couldn't keep a grin from spreading on his face.

"A bit more precision, Bill," Hermione urged him, and this time Remus was sure that she knew exactly what the poor boy suffered. Severus to her left was smirking, though his head was still lowered to his reports. "Is middle my size, or Tonks', or Fleurs? A big apple or a small grapefruit?"

"Ermhh... Tonk's, I think," Bill offered faintly and sank back in his chair with an exhausted sigh when Hermione nodded in acceptance.

"Plump or thin?"

"Gods, Hermione!" Bill cried out. "You're worse than Fleur when she wants to know about the fashion! Slender, I believe."

"Intelligent or stupid? Does he want to conquer, or does he prefer to be courted? Does he want them talkative or rather quiet? Inquisitive or indifferent?

It took Hermione more than twenty minutes to extract everything out of Bill, and the poor man was sweating profusely when she was finished with him.

"Did you enter his hotel room, Tonks?" She then asked, and Tonks, clearly having learned from the fate of her comrade, plunged into a report as detailed as she could managed.

She had been only able to sneak into the room for a minute, disguised as one of the housemaids, but it had been long enough to see the man and describe his robes and attire, including his features and height, in detail. She had also seen a little leather bound notebook and an old fashioned calendar on the table by the door, both small enough to fit into the inner pockets of a robe.

When she had finished her report and Hermione nodded without placing a further question, Tonks grinned at Bill in friendly competition and he scowled at her.

"Splendid," Hermione smiled at them all. "I know the necessary details now. This means that we need dark dress robes for Remus, Tonks, Harry and Dumbledore. Severus will wear the usual billowing robes. We also need a livery in the size of Severus, Headmaster. Could you organize one?"

"Certainly, my dear, but what…"

But Hermione wasn't really listening, murmuring about high heels and glamour charms instead.

"He isn't a pure blood lover, is he? As far as I know, most Americans are rather relaxed about issues like traditional dress codes,."

"His secretary didn't even wear wizarding robes, and neither does he, according to her," Bill remarked.

"Excellent! One more thing to set me off, then," She nodded to herself once more, then met the puzzled faces around her. "Severus will brief you on our plan. We will meet in the ballroom, but act as if you didn't know me. Have an efficient night!"

And before someone could inquire further, Hermione had left.

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A/N: „Headology" is an invention of the ingenious Terry Pratchett. Granny Weatherways, one of his witches, considers it to be the most important part of witching. It mainly consists of making people believe what you want them to, and making them see what they wanted to see anyway (I love the Pratchett's witches, by the way. If you never read anything about them, I recommend his new „Tiffany Aching" quartet, starting with „Wee Free Men". It's pure brilliancy).

I hope to finish the next chapter in about two weeks. Please be patient with me, and if you drop a review, it will warm my heart on cold winter evenings ;-)