"Wotcher, Harry!"

Harry turned, grinning at Tonks, who in turned pulled up in suspicion, eyes going from Harry to Hermione, to Ron, to Moody, and the rest of the order of Phoenix. Everyone was smiling, even Mundungus Fletcher.

"Wot is it?" she asked, hand twitching toward her wand. "It's not my birthday."

"Ah, but we have the best gift ever for you, lady Tonks!" Hermione gushed, pulling her toward the kitchen.

"What is going on?" Tonks repeated, hair cycling through different colors. "I - wait, Lady Tonks?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore stood, his good hand supporting him on the table. "In light of Miss Granger's research, she realized that you are the heir of house Black, miss Nymphadora."

Whether it was the fact that the great Albus Dumbledore was using her first name, or the stunning reversal of fortunes, Tonks instead just gaped as everyone around her cheered.

"Wot? How?"

Harry smiled nearby, though his eyes were teary and his voice thick. "With Sirius' dea…" he started, then exhaled and inhaled, trying again. "With Sirius' passing, the house of Black is technically extinct. It would have passed to Bellatrix or Draco, but Sirius disinherited them before death. Your mother is next in line, but having been disinherited for marrying your father-"

"-you can claim to be the heir and head of house Black!" Hermione finished excitedly.

"Me?" Hands shaking, Tonks shakes her head. "No. That's not right. If mum was disinherited, then I'm disinherited."

"True enough, except that Sirius reinstated you!"

McGonagal's voice broke through, gentle but ever firm. "Maybe it would be prudent for young Tonks to have a seat?"

A hubbub broke out as a chair was pushed beneath Tonks, and then everyone began to settle in. Tonks finally focused on Hermione.

"If this is true, why wasn't I notified?" she managed.

"With the male line dead, the Black family isn't considered part of the twenty-eight any more," Hermione explained apologetically. "Since you're considered a half-blood, nobody was exactly rushing to volunteer anything."

"Really, it's nonsense!" Molly spouted from the other end of the room. "Letting a house die just to keep someone from getting it?"

"I don't see what the issue is," Ron muttered. "'Oh no, I lost my fancy title!' The house and any galleons Sirius left behind is nice and all, but Tonks is Tonks, isn't she? She's no less capable a witch or auror regardless of whether her name's written in some ministry tome. It just sounds like more political work to me."

Hermione joined a number of others in gawking, while Dumbledore smiled. "You're growing up, Ron Weasley. Indeed, magical Britain and all the world would be a much better place if we would value people simply for being persons, and the type of persons they choose to be. However, the loss of any noble house or otherwise is damaging to our understanding of magic."

Hermione finally found her voice, the hunger for knowledge evident. "How so, Headmaster? Titles are useful and all, but do they really affect magic?"

"Not magic itself, but our ability to handle it," Minerva spoke up. "I'd give you points for the question, miss Granger, but as students from other houses are not present, it'd not be fair. That said, the explanation is long and this is not the place for it. Professor Dumbledore or I will explain at a different time."

"She'll hold you to that!" Harry grinned, while Dumbledore turned to Moody.

"Alastor, how goes the preparations for our trap?"

Lurching forward on his peg leg, Moody brushed some hair from his good eye and nodded. "It's getting on, Albus. The runes auror and I are working on some wards and anchoring stones to keep the death eaters stuck when they arrive. It's a bit tedious and all, but I don't have a runes expert I can really trust. On top of that, we've got the bloody job of disguising the things - it's ruddy hard."

"If you can get me a copy of the notes, professor Babbling and I can take a look," Dumbledore volunteered.

Moody scowled. "No offense, Dumbledore, but is she to be trusted? Even if she's not a death eater agent, I don't think she could keep her trap shut if someone skilled started prying for questions."

"I'm quite sure she's no agent of darkness, Alastor, but your point stands."

"Not to be crude, but what about just obliviating her?" Harry piped up. "Maybe don't show her the runes unless she agreed…"

"Harry Potter!" Minerva scolded. "You cannot simply go around using people at will and then obliviating them!" Her tirade continued, Molly jumping in, but Harry had tuned them out.

Something was wrong. His instincts screamed it, though not necessarily screaming danger. Just...wrongness.

The grip of Hermione's hand on his arm brought him back to reality. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Finding his hand rubbing his scar out of habit, Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure. Just didn't feel good, all of sudden."

"As well you shouldn't, young man!" Molly resumed, shock suddenly registering on her face. "You've never obliviated Ron, have you?"

"Harry would never do that!" Hermione and Ron chorused to his defense.

"They're right, missus Weasley," Harry added despite his churning stomach. "I realize what I suggested is a heavy thing - that's why I said asking for her agreement in advance. Ugh." The latter was in response to a slight dizziness washing over him. "I'm sorry - I think I need the loo."

Slipping away, Harry moved from the group toward the loo, avoiding being spotted by the portrait of Walburga Black. As he went he felt better, at least physically.

"What was that all about?" he asked himself, checking the mirror. Despite the unpleasantness being nothing like his encounters with VoldeQuirrel, his eyes lingered on his scar once more.

You're tired. You've been under a lot of stress. You're fighting for your life, and the lives of your friends. You're fighting for magic itself.

After a few minutes and still feeling fine, Harry flushed the loo in case anyone was listening, and headed back.

The crowd had shifted, ostensibly looking at some papers Moody had laid out. As Harry circled through the parlor and into the kitchen, the nausea hit him again.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Suspicion flaring, Harry shook his head. "Headmaster - something's wrong. I don't know what, but something is."

"Check the wards!" Alastor bellowed as everyone set to talking, while Dumbledore beckoned Harry over.

"Give us some room - what is it, Harry?" the professor asked, putting his body between Harry and the shouted questions.

"I'm not sure, headmaster," Harry said, while his instincts suddenly flared with recognition. "Something just felt wrong...but now that I'm standing right next to you…"

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore repeated, eyes kind. "Even if you can't say what, we might be able to figure it out."

"Professor, it felt like...like your hand," Harry hissed. "Different, but similar."

Dumbledore's face paled, and his ruined arm moved slightly within his robes. "Where, Harry?"

"I don't know. It hit me right when I mentioned obliviating, but went away when I got to the loo. Then it returned when I came into the kitchen, back to the meeting."

"Dumbledore!" Alastor called. "Shall we evacuate?"

"NO!" Dumbledore suddenly boomed, whirling toward the Order of Phoenix. "Everyone stay right where they are!"

With that command, everyone froze, the only sound being their breathing and Moody's mad eye whirling about looking for threats.

"Everyone stay calm," Dumbledore said, matching his voice to the command. "We're going to figure this out." For a long moment he stood, clearly thinking, while Harry grew more and more uncomfortable. Finally the headmaster nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with a plan that only he knew.

"Young Nymphadora, would you please summon Kreacher?"

"Sure nuff - Kreacher!"

The old house elf popped into sight, scowling at everyone but knowing too well to give way to his usual protests in such a crowd, especially one with an earnest Dumbledore taking command.

"What you's want?" Kreacher growled grumpily.

"Kreacher, has anyone come or gone since our meeting?" Dumbledore asked.

"Nobody," Kreacher replied, rubbing his left arm.

"Excellent. Stay put, please." Dumbledore straightened, eyes taking in the crowd. "You know that I've been training young Harry. It appears to be bearing fruit, and I for one intend to sharpen that training right here. If you all would be obliging for a bit, we shall soon narrow this down." Rubbing his hands, Dumbledore then sent the papers on the table flying to a neat stack on the counter while the tables and chairs were vanished.

"Awesome," Ron murmured at the display of wandless magic, and Harry nodded. Finally drawing his wand, the headmaster surveyed the Order once more.

"Harry will stay by me - and close your eyes, will you, Harry? The rest of you divide into two groups, however you prefer."

Perplexed, everyone followed the instructions, the crowded room eventually leaving a gap down the middle, and space around Dumbledore and Harry.

"Harry, which group is that feeling coming from?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Don't think about who might be in which. Simply say whether it's coming from the right, or the left."

Eyes tightly shut, Harry hesitated. "I'm - I'm still not sure."

"Then I shall lead you around, Harry. You tell me when you feel it. The rest of you, keep quiet."

Feeling ever more the fool and struggling to isolate something about the wrongness he had sensed, Harry slowly completed almost an entire circuit before he felt the wrongness ebb just slightly. Freezing, he took a step backward, feeling the difference.

"Wicked." The word slipped out softly, but he could hear Dumbledore's smile. "This group I'm closer to," Harry said, desperately hoping it included Hermione and Ron, "They're not it."

"Excellent. Keep your eyes closed, Harry." Dumbledore said firmly. "All of you in that group, except Alastor - please retire to a safe part of Grimmauld Place. Alastor, you can join Harry and I. Those of you who remain can likely guess what is to happen next. Form two new groups and on we shall go."

Some sounds of frustration met Harry's ears, but the dominant sound was moving feet and Moody's peg leg thumping to Harry's side.

"Again, Harry," Dumbledore prompted when silence resumed. And so the process went. By the third split Harry called out, feeling that wrong presence passing him by.

"Dumbledore, this seems fairly obvious at this point," Moody growled, but Harry could feel Dumbledore shake his head.

"This is excellent practice."

"The geezer is sweating like he's already in the fires of hell!" Alastor exclaimed. "Let me-"

"Hold, auror."

Hearing Moody's mouth snap shut, Harry wondered who was sweating when there was an exclamation and then Moody's now-familiar "Stupefy!"

The first thing Harry spotted as his eyes flew open was Mundungus Fletcher's form bouncing off the wood floor. Near him, Arthur Weasley and Minerva stood, eyes wide.

"He didn't grab for his wand," Moody grumbled as he stumped over and prodded the inside of Fletcher's jacket. "Some kind of pendant - probably a portkey."

"I never figured him for a spy!" Arthur complained, sweating himself.

"He's not," Dumbledore rejoined, wandless magic lifting both of Mundungus' sleeves. "Sadly, he is a thief."

An unexpected howl of rage burst from Kreacher, the house elf blinking forward in a heartbeat before pounding his fists on Mundungus' unprotected face. "Thief! Mudblood thief, taking his locket…"

Suddenly suspended in midair and silenced by magic, Kreacher flailed while Moody snorted and then bent to resume frisking Mundungus. "Careful, Alastor," Dumbledore cautioned, turning his attention to Arthur and McGonagall. "Arthur, please join the others. You are free to tell them of what has occurred here, but nobody is to enter this room except for Filius. He would be most helpful right now."

Nodding to himself and characteristically quiet at Dumbledore's urgency, Arthur scurried from the room while Dumbledore nodded to Alastor. "Alastor, you're the most experienced with cursed items. I believe we may have found another of the Dark Lord's horcruxes."

"Nasty business then," Moody stepped forward, preparing himself to go to work. He glanced at Harry. "Well done, Harry. In the middle of your most trusted allies, you felt something was wrong and acted on it."

"Constant vigilance," Harry smiled weakly, and Moody nodded in recognition, then showed why he was the most feared auror in Britain, narrating his work at the headmaster's request.

"Whatever it is, it isn't affecting Fletcher yet," Moody announced, casting a diagnostic charm. "Right, here we go." A simple evanesco did away with Mundungus' coat, objects clattering to the floor.

"That's quite the haul for the short time we were here," Minerva said tightly. "Silver cutlery, some knick knacks…"

"I think that locket is the culprit," Dumbledore said, watching Kreacher's veins standing out and his midair thrashing intensify.

"That's a horcrux if I ever saw one," Moody grumbled, levitating the locket in the air. "What are you thinking, Albus? Blasting curse?"

"I'm afraid that won't be enough," Dumbledore shook his head. "It didn't work on the first one I found. Even if it did, I would hate to damage the locket - I believe it's a rare piece, having belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

"What did you use to destroy the first one, sir?" Harry asked.

"The sword of Gryffindor, which is sadly sitting in my office right now."

"It's no problem to go and get it, though," Harry shrugged. "Professor McGonagall could floo there and back in a heartbeat."

"Indeed, but these horcruxes are powerful magic. They can sense dangerous artifacts." Hefting his wand, Dumbledore turned to McGonagall and Moody. "I think an unforgivable is in order."

"Headmaster!" Minerva said sternly. "After all our lectures to Harry, you want-"

"I realize the risk, Minerva," Dumbledore said, holding out his withered hand. "At any rate, I've already been cursed by these items. My time is coming quickly, so I doubt the corruption of my soul will precede it. And if we can save this artifact, why not? Avada Kedavra."

Harry's eyes barely caught the green flash of the spell before an explosion of moldy black smoke struck him like a hippogriff, flipping him across the room and slamming into the wall. In his mind a wailing shriek overwhelmed his ears and conscious thought with all the agony of a cruciatus, and almost as quickly it was gone.

Vision swimming from the twin blows, Harry pushed himself up, simultaneously concerned and slightly relieved to know the reaction to Dumbledore's spell had also knocked over the other three mages in the room. Furthermore, it also had caused Moody to drop his spells on Kreacher, and the wizened elf was all fours, clutching the locket and weeping.

"They did it, master Regulus!" he wept hoarsely. "Blood traitor wizard did what Kreacher could not!"

Anger boiled up in Harry, and he leapt to his feet as others crowded into the room, gawking at the destruction. "You knew this was here? And what it was?"

"Kreacher doesn't know what it is!" the house elf protested. "Just that Master Regulus said to destroy it!"

"Regulus?" Lupin looked stunned. "So he did defect. Or at least he tried."

"Tell us everything you know, Kreacher."

Looking at Harry with less resentment, Kreacher nodded, and the tale poured forth.

"What I don't understand," Ron said as he sent a stunner at Harry, "is why you got Grimmauld Place, Kreacher and Sirius' vault, but Tonks got to claim the house of Black."

"Sirius changed his will to leave those things to me," Harry countered. "I don't think he realized he had created a plan of succession."

"He wasn't the forward thinking type," Hermione agreed from her notes across the room. She paused, watching as Harry rolled to his left to avoid a curse from Tonks. Ron's spell came at Harry's blind side, but somehow he knew it was there and threw up a quick protego, deflecting the stunner harmlessly towards the ceiling.

"C'mon, Tonks!" Harry urged, leaving the shield to defend his back from Ron and launching a string of curses and hexes at Tonks. "Take the kids gloves off! Treat me like a Death Eater."

The impact of Harry's spell against Tonk's deflection nearly staggered her, but she recovered, dancing away from his attack while Harry dropped Ron with a string of stunners. "Fine, Potter! Don't blame me for what happens next! Locomotus! Geminio! Mordeo!"

The trio of spells zipped past Harry, and he grinned in recognition. "Jinx a chair to attack me, will you? Augamenta! Protego!" His blast of water on the way and a new shield up, Harry turned toward the chair, ready to paralyze it. "Impedimen-"

Not one chair but five were racing for him, animated legs stomping across the floor. Harry failed to complete his spell in astonishment, staring as a chair flipped in the air like an exploding popcorn kernel, two chairs clattering to the floor before getting up and resuming their charge.

"Bloody h-Deprimo!" Pushing more of his magic into the spell, the impact didn't destroy the chairs but rather the floor around them. As the animated objects fell with the rubble, Harry spun to fire a curse around his shield and took a stunner to the chest.

He blinked back to consciousness a moment later, Filius' amused face the first to come into view. "Well done, Harry. You adapted quite well."

Pushing himself off the floor and dusting himself up, Harry nodded. "It's not good enough for the dark lord, though."

"Of course not - that will come with time!" Flitwick promised with more optimism than Harry thought was warranted. "Keep the end in mind, but don't forget to check your progress: you just dueled very well against a talented Auror. You're still in Hogwarts. I don't think any of your classmates could match you."

"I hear Isobel MacDougal in Ravenclaw is pretty good," Harry commented wryly. "Her family line is full of duelists. Someone said the Irish are good at holding grudges."

"Ah yes, the MacDougals!" Flitwick said warmly. "I faced her uncle once in the duelling circuit, I think. A solid fighter."

"Can we recruit them, then?" Hermione asked from across the room.

"Already attempted, miss Granger," Dumbledore said from the other end of the table where he looked over the runes. "The MacDougals are pure bloods, and among the many who aren't eager to risk their necks till they know who's going to win."

"If they'd risk their necks, we'd know who would win," Ron grumped.

"Indeed," Flitwick responded as he repaired the cavity Harry had created, "let us be glad they did not join the Dark Lord. They could just as easily hand him the war. Take a rest, Harry, Ron. Tonks, you too."

The trio headed over to the table, grabbing towels and drinking water from goblets. Fltiwick trundled up, looking pleased as punch.

"You're doing extraordinary, Harry!" he commented. "Your physical stamina has greatly improved, and your ability to hold a spell at your back while firing another is enormously important."

"Too bad I can't just maintain the ruddy thing the whole time," Harry groused.

"Even the dark lord doesn't do such things, Potter. It's too draining."

"My chaining needs more work," Harry said aloud. "It's so hard to get the incantation right on some of these new spells! And I feel a little like Ron: why can't I just point my wand at Voldy and say 'die'? The killing curse is six syllables, and die is only one. If my intent is the same, why can't I cast a killing curse with that word? Imagine being able to send six kedavras to the dark lord's one?"

"That would be nice, but it don't work that way, Harry!" Tonks said before chugging more water, then wiping her mouth. "Best not to dwell on what isn't, and focus on what is."

"There's wisdom in that," Dumbledore added, "but good can also come from questioning, if that leads to understanding. This is a good thing to explain, as it's an example of the same question young Weasley asked a few evenings ago."

Hermione grabbed a new parchment, excited to learn but confused. "What does the importance of Tonk's title have to do with saying an incantation instead of your preferred word?"

"The very foundations of magic, miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled. "It ties into transfiguration, potions, everything. Let's talk the basics of transfiguration, a conversation Harry and I had a couple weeks ago. If you are careless in transfiguring a rat into a cup, what happens?"

"Well, Ron's was furry and had a tail."

"That's right. Magic knew the rat's true nature, and when one is seeking to bend reality with magic, they must be specific, or magic will fill in the gaps with what is natural."

Harry frowned. "Saying 'die' instead of 'avada kedavra' seems pretty specific to me."

"Ah, but that leads us to the second principle of using magic: the more one's techniques align with what is natural and historical, the more easily magic will follow your intent." Dumbledore warmed to his subject, smiling. "Consider potions, you two. Harry, when your broke your arm, what was going to be prescribed?"

"Skele-Gro," Harry answered.

"And until the bones in your arm were so foolishly banished, was Skele-Gro actually needed for your arm to mend?"

"Well, no," Hermione interjected. "So long as it was set properly, it would heal on its own. But Skele-Gro made the process take only a day as opposed to weeks!"

"Indeed, and here we see both the natural healing process and the magical process following these principles. For the bone to heal correctly using the natural method, it needed to be set back to its historical and natural alignment. In the same way, Harry, your ancestor Linfred tackled the problem of slow healing times by trying to find a magical means of speeding up the natural process. What is the process of developing potions, you two?"

Blank stares were all the headmaster received, and he shook his head. "Dear me, I must have a conversation with Severus. Did not even your text books explain the science?"

"They only outline the recipes, sir," Hermione said quickly. "Honestly, I was starting to think most potions were invented out of pure luck."

"I can see why, but it's the closest thing we do to muggle science," Dumbledore nodded. "Well, consider the ingredients. There are two types of powdered bone in the potion - a natural substance. One is the primary supplement, while the other more naturally works with the magical system to speed the healing process and formation of new bones and repairs. To keep the liver from absorbing most of this influx of calcium, magical honnet, ground and slightly seared, provided the needed effect. Honnet causes one's stomach to be upset, so a new ingredient was needed to offset that, without interfering with the roles of the other ingredients. And so it went."

Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "And that's why the polyjuice potion requires a hair, isn't it? It's not enough to intend to look like the person you want to impersonate. Magic required a blueprint."

"Amazing," Hermione said, quill flying before looking up. "And these same principles are why we use the remnants of Latin, an ancient language to do spell casting?"

"Right again, miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"That makes so much more sense!" Harry said, standing in his excitement.

"Does this bring any enlightenment to what you've learned in the history of magic?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not concerning the goblin wars, sir," Harry answered after a moment.

"So ancient languages, long used to develop magic, are considered by magic to be natural." Hermione surmised. "If we wanted English to become sufficient for magic, lots of people would have to practice for centuries and get lesser results than using Latin."

"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Harry praised.

"You can see further examples of this," Flitwick weighed in. "Consider the magical centers of the world outside Europe: Japan, China, India, and Egypt. All of them have well preserved places of antiquity and established customs, traditions, and ancient languages."

"What about the Americas?" Hermione asked.

"Why do you think the Spanish conquistadors eventually prevailed over those ancient civilizations?" Dumbledore asked. "The Mayans and the Aztecs had magic far beyond those of Europe. Latin, for all its age, is young compared to those cultures. The Spanish wizards recognized this. Add to this that the Aztec and Mayan cultures had been developing dark magic and blood rituals for thousands of years. It consumed their cultures, and the Aztecs were dominant in the struggle."

"Then how did they win?" Harry asked.

"They developed a magical plague," Dumbledore answered gravely. "They played peacefully at first, both out of fear but also to learn as much as they could. When they returned, they not only brought spoils but slaves. Their purpose was to learn the language and culture and gain the magical acumen of the Aztecs, and also to have test subjects for their magical maladies. When they returned again with a working plague, it made much faster work of the native populations than even the Spanish and Portugese expected. Millenia of magical knowledge extinguished with the language."

"You don't seem too bothered by it, sir," Hermione observed.

"On the contrary, I am very bothered by it." Dumbledore countered. "The Spanish were scared but not justified in what they did. It was driven by greed for power, land and resources. At the same time, the Aztecs had already wiped out the Mayan peoples and those who remained were slaves. They had regular blood rituals involving human sacrifice, not just of slaves but their own children. Their regular practices were very similar to the ones that created the horcruxes we now seek to destroy. All that occurred during that time was evil, but I am not to say who was more or less righteous."

Seconds ticked by as each considered this.

"There's an even earlier example of this principle, if you're interested," Flitwick volunteered after a pause. "Have you heard of the tower of Babel?"

"The Christian story?" Hermione frowned. "Where mankind was building a tower to the heavens and God came down and confused their languages?"

"Indeed. The legend is so old that we have no way to historically verify it, but my theory is that someone managed a permanent randomized translation spell on the population of the world," Flitwick said. "The result was that everyone banded with those whom they could still communicate with, and the natural divisions occurred. My theory is that it was a magical experiment gone spectacularly wrong, as no mage, or even group of mages would be powerful enough to accomplish such."

"At any rate," Dumbledore re-entered the conversation, "that is why magical households are so important. Ancient houses, noble houses, etc - all have been around long enough to create new magics and strengthen old ones."

Tonks stared. "Really, headmaster? There could be Black family magics?"

"There almost certainly is," he smiled. "Moody will be going through the Black library as he has time to make sure nothing nasty springs out or affects you. You will decide what is done with the findings."

A pop sounded, Dobby bowing and scraping. "Mister Draco is back in the come and go room, great Harry Potter!"

Harry smiled, kneeling in front of Dobby. "Thanks, Dobby. Let me know what they say when they leave. And what's that you have there?"

"It's the minister's letter to the great Harry Potter! I 'spect he's coming your party."

"It's not really a party, Dobby," Harry corrected gently. "It's an emancipation ceremony."

"And then the great Harry Potter will be a free wizard!" Dobby cheered.

Harry blinked, the responsibility and free settling on his mind. "Yeah, I will be, won't I?"

"And we look forward to it," Dumbledore said warmly, standing and heading for the door. "That's enough for today. Get cleaned up and back to your studies, Harry."

"What about me?" Hermione asked.

"You never leave your studies, miss Granger."

Filius followed the headmaster out, and when the doors closed, Harry and Tonks sat at the table. Hermione looked carefully at Tonks. "Are you ready?"

Face solemn, Tonks nodded. "I am. You got the potions ready to go?"

Hermione gently patted her bag in response. "All here. We're set."

Taking a deep breath, Tonks let it out, staring at the two. "Jeepers, but the two of you are crazy. If this goes wrong we'll go to Azkaban!"

Harry's wolfish grin reappeared. "If it goes right some of us will go to Azkaban regardless."

"Don't worry, Tonks," Hermione said encouragingly. "It'll work. You can do it."

"I can...just don't know if I want to." Standing, Tonks smiled at them and then headed for the doors. "Blimey, Harry - you already made me the lady of house Black. You'd think that be enough."

"Hermione made me Lord of house Potter!" he protested. "And my situation is permanent."

She disappeared, and Hermione let her confident posture sag a little big. Looking at Harry, she shook her head.

"I don't like to admit it, Harry...but I'm nervous, too."

"We can do it," he reassured her. "We need to do it."

"I know we can," she whispered. "I'm just afraid of the consequences. What will Dumbledore do?"

"Probably nothing," Harry said simply. "That's why we're in this situation at all. It'll be okay, Hermione! You're the smartest witch ever. Moody, Tonks and Bones will get the job done. You and Ron will be great."

She sighed, staring into space. "I hope so."