A/N: So much confusion in the ranks! That's how everyone at Hogwarts would be feeling, so I think that's good. I hope this will explain some more anyway. Very sorry about the cliff-hangers.

~

"I want to know what's going on," Hermione hissed, leaning close to Ron's ear. They were striding down the passageway, Malfoy at their backs, on the way to the infirmary.

"I don't know. It all came out of nowhere."

"I'm scared."

This is what Ginny had said, and he felt another rush of fear and guilt. "I'm scared too," he admitted lowly.

"Be quiet," Malfoy snapped, and both of them fell silent. Ron wanted to talk to her, more than anything. He wanted to know what was happening. He felt sick and light-headed with the suddenness of it all, the sharp descent from pleasant end-of-test exuberance into chaos and confusion.

How had the goddamn Death Eaters gotten into Hogwarts? He thought Dumbledore had all kinds of precautions in place. How had Malfoy managed to orchestrate this in the very centre of Voldemort's enemies? And most of all – what was wrong with Harry? Was Voldemort going to arrive at Hogwarts and kill Harry when he was unconscious?

"Shit," he said under his breath, and Hermione glanced anxiously at him.

"What, Ron?"

"All this."

"I know," she said, and held his hand harder.

"Be quiet," Malfoy interrupted again, sounding very tense now. They were almost at the hospital.

Then Ron remembered something. He still had his wand.

Malfoy, presumably in all the strain of taking over Hogwarts, had forgotten, and all fourteen quidditch players had their wands.

He almost told Hermione, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Granted, there was nothing much he could do with it at the present moment. Malfoy had his wand on both of them, and Hermione was at risk if he tried anything – but it was something nonetheless, something for their side.

Two Death Eaters were stationed outside the hospital wing, each with stony expressions and wands outstretched. When they saw Malfoy behind Ron and Hermione, they relaxed a little and nodded.

"Young Malfoy."

"Jones. Dolohov," Malfoy said stiffly, and Ron felt Hermione start beside him and clutch at his fingers. Ron had only a vague picture of the man from the fight at the Ministry in fifth year, but he was pretty sure the bastard was burnt into Hermione's memory. After all, he'd almost killed her. Well, the feeling of watching Hermione fall to the ground was burnt into his memory. That feeling was angry and horrified and frightened all mixed up, and he had to exercise a great deal of control in order to stop himself from hitting the guy.

"You've brought company," he said.

Malfoy nodded and did not elaborate. The two Death Eaters said nothing for a moment, and then nodded too.

"Go in," said Jones. "Your father is expecting you."

He opened the door, and the first thing Ron saw was Harry lying on a single hospital bed, on top of the covers. He was still in his quidditch robes. His eyes were closed. He looked at though he was sleeping – but when they moved closer, Ron saw that his face was sweat-streaked, and his scar red and raw, as though the wound had just been made.

Ron turned his head to focus on the other figures in the room. There were several Death Eaters, mostly hooded. Lucius Malfoy stood at the foot of Harry's bed. Beyond him, to his shock, stood Lupin and Hagrid. The Defence teacher's face was desperate, and yet another Dark wand was directed his way. He did not take his eyes from Harry.

Hagrid was a mess, shaking and close to tears. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out. Ron suspected that he was reliving his time with the giants, and the tortures of the Death Eaters there. Any minute now, he was going to tumble down in a faint.

Ron looked at Harry again. He was too pale.

Lucius Malfoy glanced around at their arrival, and his eyebrows shot up.

"You've brought a Mudblood and a Blood Traitor into my presence," he said coolly. "You'd best have an explanation, Draco."

"Potters' friends," Malfoy said swiftly. "You wanted these two," (he jerked his head at Lupin and Hagrid) "to see this because they are close to Potter, and I assumed Granger and the Weasel would be equally welcome additions."

Lucius blinked slowly. "Do not satisfy personal feelings here," he said finally. "It is not yet the place. However, I believe you are right." He turned to Ron and Hermione, and gave a little, mocking bow. "Join us, friends of the once-great Harry Potter, and witness the power of the Dark Lord in all its glory."

Somehow, Ron found a voice within him, and spoke. "Voldemort is coming here?"

Lupin's head moved slightly as he recognised Ron's tones, but he would not remove his gaze from the too-still, too-silent Harry. Hagrid made no reaction.

Lucius, on the other hand, laughed. A few of the Death Eaters joined in, and Hermione pressed against him on one side. The feeling of her body was so familiar, and he found a certain calm in that, and in taking deep breaths.

"No," Lucius said, his laughter fading into a thin-lipped smile. "Voldemort will not be coming here."

"Then how," Hermione said quietly, "is Harry supposed to fight him?"

Ron wanted to nudge her, remind her that Voldemort didn't know it was he or Harry who wouldn't be around at the end of it all, but then decided that she knew what she was doing.

"Don't ask questions that aren't your place to ask," Draco said shortly, but Lucius hushed him.

"No, no," he said. "The little Mudblood has a point."

He took a few steps away from Harry's bed, towards Hermione, and she stood admirably fast, raising her chin. Ron felt unspeakably proud of her, and at the same time, shit-scared that the elder Malfoy would do something vicious.

"The Dark Lord is not a fool," he said quietly. "After exposing himself, and suffering defeat a number of times, he realised that, following his old methods, he would not be victorious. He would not expose himself again. So he waited, served by a faithful few, and studied his enemy."

That was why they had heard nothing all of sixth year, Ron presumed, trying to see Hermione's face out of the corner of his eye. Voldemort had been thinking up his final plans.

"In the end," Lucius continued, "he decided that there was one arena in which he could certainly defeat Potter, and through which he risked no physical exposure."

"What arena?" Hermione asked, her voice shaky, and Lucius tilted his head.

"The mind," he said simply.

Ron looked at Harry yet again, and knew his expression was horrified. Lupin had closed his eyes and dropped his head. Did this mean –

"So," said Lucius, a definite smugness entering his tone, "Lord Voldemort is engaged in a confrontation with the Potter child, even as we speak. We just can't see it. They battle within Potter's mind."

Ron knew now why Lupin seemed so devastated. Harry had refused to continue Occlumency lessons with Snape, and no other Hogwarts teacher, besides Dumbledore (who for some reason would not take up the task) was qualified in the subject. After a few lessons in 6th year, Harry had simply stopped going, and Snape never demanded he attend. Ron was not sure if Dumbledore had been aware of this – he didn't see how he could not have been – but no real action had been taken. Perhaps they were concerned enough about Harry's mental state, and the events of 5th year, to let it slide.

None of the reasoning mattered now, anyway. Even with Occlumency, Harry was still only a kid. While prepared for jinxes and curses in abundance, he did not have the mental defences of Voldemort. He was clever – but was clever anywhere near enough for the Dark Lord?

They'd never expected this. A non-physical battle had never been in the agenda.

Ron was just beginning to think, very furiously, that Snape should have insisted on the Occulmency lessons when he remembered something else.

He hadn't seen Snape at the Quidditch match, and he hadn't seen him being taken hostage. Snape, in fact, did not appear to have been around this morning.

Which meant that there was a chance he was out and about, and free to contact the Ministry, the Order, Aurors, anybody who might help them, and stop all this before it was too late for Harry. Too late for everyone.

Snape, their ultimate hope. If someone had told him that a few weeks ago – Merlin, a few hours ago – he would have laughed in their faces. Now, he desperately wanted to check with Hermione whether or not she'd seen the Potions master.

All of these thoughts went through his head in the space of moments, and then Lucius was talking again.

"My assumption is that Potter is near defeat. Look at his face."

Everybody, almost involuntarily, did so. He was still sweat-soaked and strained, but now trembled a little. There was a stifled sob from Hagrid.

"How did you get past the wards?" Hermione asked. Ron wished he could speak like her, with such courage, but consoled himself instead with holding her hand. "They're very advanced, and Dumbledore –"

"Dumbledore!" Lucius snapped, striding back to Harry's bedside. "Dumbledore is locked up beneath this castle, and won't be seeing daylight again." He shot a hard look at Hermione. "How did we do it? We have been studying this castle for years. We have had excellent curse-breakers and magic-workers under the Imperius curse, researching at every hour, devising plans. We used them until they gave way, and then we found other useful servants. That is the problem with you Muggle-lovers – you lack ruthlessness. You lack the drive that is needed to propel a person to power. You simply lack the willingness to take whatever you need and mould it to advantage."

"That's not a problem," came a voice. All turned, and Ron realised, to his shock, that it was Lupin. The man looked tired and faded, but had a gleam of determination in his eye that Ron had never seen before.

"What did you say?" Lucius hissed, and Lupin straightened a little, directly meeting his eye.

"That's not a problem," he said. "That's what will save us. Our leaders place value in others. You – you will never be important to Voldemort. You're disposable – every one of you – and in the end, there won't be any people left to use."

Lucius Mafloy stared at the Defence teacher for a few moments, visibly grinding his jaw, and then nodded briefly at a robed figure to his left. The Death Eater stepped forward, and muttered a calm: "Cruciatus."

Lupin screamed immediately, and the sound echoed between the stone walls. He dropped to the floor, while Hermione gave a small yelp, and dug her fingers into Ron's arm. Ron wanted to scream himself, and remembered his sister.

Lupin fainted after almost a minute, and nobody moved to wake him. Hermione was struggling to hold back tears, but Ron was too shocked to even cry. He just stood there and tried to keep her upright and wished that he could wake up, that this wasn't real.

"What are you going to do when it's all over?" Hermione asked then. "If you lose?"

Lucius looked all around the room, meeting each person's eye, and finally his gaze came to rest upon his son. Draco had been standing behind Ron and Hermione all this time, silent, his wand hovering between the two.

"Draco," said his father, nodding at Hermione. "You can dispose of this one now. She asks too many questions."

Malfoy did not move for a moment, then took a half-step forward. "Sir?"

"Immediately, if you please."

Ron absorbed these words and felt himself begin to shake as he understood their implication. He spun to face Malfoy, shaking his head.

"No," he said. "Don't. No. Malfoy, don't."

Malfoy said nothing and looked at Hermione. She was staring at the floor, biting her lip, and a tear dropped off the end of her nose. Ron's heart was aching and his head had gone wild with fear. He reached out a hand to touch Malfoy's sleeve, but then let it drop back to his side again.

"Please, Malfoy," he said urgently, his voice cracking. He was begging and he didn't care. "Please don't. Please don't hurt her. Malfoy, don't fucking hurt her. Don't."

"Shut up," he snapped, but Ron spoke over him.

"Please don't. Jesus. Don't hurt her."

"Shut up, Weasley," he said again, and swallowed, facing Hermione.

"No," Ron shouted, and grabbed the back of Malfoy's coat. The Slytherin shrugged him off immediately, and then there were hands on Ron's arms, holding him back. He kicked, connected with a shin, and received a dizzying blow to the back of his head. He could see Hermione over Malfoy's shoulder, and she was staring at him. Ron knew he was yelling, shouting at Malfoy not to hurt her, and he knew that others were yelling at him, saying he'd be next, but he didn't care. He could hardly hear them. He could only see her, and it was like the world had slid into slow motion.

Malfoy's wand was against her throat. She was crying. She mouthed I love you at him. He forced himself to keep watching her, trying to preserve this moment, trying to keep her alive by sheer will-power.

There was a long, agonising silence, in which nobody moved – including Malfoy. He just stood there, pointing his wand. He didn't speak, though his mouth was half-open. Ron felt a strange, small surge of hope, and then Lucius stormed forward and snatched the wand from his son.

"You ridiculous boy," he hissed. "What are you doing?"

"I – don't know," Malfoy began, but Lucius cut him off.

"You don't know? Perhaps I'll need to speak to our Lord once he has killed the Potter boy. Perhaps you've been spending too much time with that doddering fool Dumbledore after all."

"No, father, I –"

"Perhaps," Lucius went on loudly, "I was wrong ever to come to you this year. Perhaps you were not such a faithful servant in my absence. Perhaps you are full of lies and deceit."

"No, father, I am a true and faithful servant!" Malfoy said, his voice a near-shriek. "Today – in the game –"

"A true and faithful servant, yet you cannot even turn your wand upon your enemy? Perhaps I should have addressed your commitment more carefully."

"Give me my wand!" Malfoy insisted, sounding dangerously hysterical. "I'll kill her! I will!"

"You are too weak," Lucius said, shaking his head. "I thought with your display of leadership this morning, that you had changed. But you, my son, will always be weak, and unworthy of my name."

Lucius twirled his son's wand once in his hand, and then placed its tip delicately against the pulse in Hermione's throat, eyes still on Draco. The younger Malfoy stood rigid and unmoving, but there was a twitch above his eye and a strange cast to his features. He looked to be near breaking-point.

"Please, no," Ron said, in a voice so low that nobody but himself heard it. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch Hermione die, but his mind was full of pictures, achingly sweet and painful. Her hair and all its curls, a mess in the morning, spread out across his pillow – her hands stained with ink – her face all concentration as she checked his homework for him – her lips with chocolate on them – the curve of her hip –

Without knowing quite what he was doing, he put a hand inside his robes. He was just able to reach his wand, which was poking out from the inside pocket, and when his fingers touched it, it was like they were on fire. He yanked it out, and the people on either side of him were so surprised that they released their grip, just slightly. It was enough. He lunged forward and screamed the Falling Jinx at Lucius, who dropped like a sack of potatoes to the floor.

Immediately, fifteen other people were screaming, the Death Eaters re-directing their wands, and Hermione was covering her face with her hands. Ron ignored the noise and looked at her, then at Malfoy, and then at the people surrounding him. Any second now, one would curse him to death, and that would be the end of it all. He wished he'd done more with his life.

Then Harry made a sound. It was a deep, long inhale, and Ron didn't know if it was release or relief, didn't know what it meant, but just to see him do something was good. Somehow, they'd all heard it, as though they'd been listening for Harry throughout these lesser conflicts. The small crowd quieted. Ron was forgotten. All attention was fixed on the Boy Who Lived, as he let out the breath he'd taken in, and his scar began to – glow.

"Is that supposed to happen?" one of the Death Eaters muttered, and they all shifted uneasily.

The glow from the scar spread quickly, over Harry's face and his arms, down his legs, into his hair. Soon his whole body was shining. There was a strange ringing in the air – where it had come from, Ron had no idea, but it made him feel a bit ill. He couldn't take his eyes off Harry. The light grew steadily brighter.

Then Harry, still with eyes closed, opened his mouth, and let out a sound so terrible that Ron knew it was Voldemort and not his friend – that it was Voldemort shrieking from inside Harry. It was like a scream and a wail and a roar in one, and it filled the whole room.

Beyond this noise from Harry, he heard footsteps running along the corridor outside, and sharp cries. He tried to call out and say 'we're here', but his voice wouldn't work anymore. He didn't need to, anyway. The door blew open, and Snape was standing there, flanked by Nymphadora Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. How did they find us? he thought briefly, but there were no answers. A host of others followed behind them, and as Ron tried to absorb them all, they went rushing into the room with wild battle cries. They were fighting like mad things, already bruised and cut and dirty, with jinxes and curses he mostly didn't recognise.

Harry had stopped screaming, but Ron couldn't see him in between the people. He saw Hermione instead, standing just where she'd been when Malfoy had threatened to kill her. They met eyes – and then he took five rapid steps forward and grabbed her. She wrapped her arms around him, fingernails digging into his back, her head tucked up beneath his chin.

"You're still here," he breathed in her ear.

"Ron, behind you," was her response, and he turned automatically, wand out. It was Lucius Malfoy, recovered from his fall, and a murderous gleam in his black-as-black pupils.

"I'll kill you both," he snarled, "and then finish off the Potter boy, if the Dark Lord finds the task too difficult!"

"Expelliarmus," Ron shouted.

The spell was easily deflected.

"Er – Stupefy! Caligare! Stupefy!"

Again, deflected. Hermione was muttering jinxes in his ear, but it was like he couldn't understand her, and his mind was blank. Lucius seemed to know this. He put out his wand, and smiled an awful smile.

"Ava –" he began, and at this point Ron thought of something.

"Examino," he said, as clearly as possible, and Lucius could not finish the curse. He did not have the breath for it. He gagged and choked, frowning at the two of them, and then put both hands to his throat. His wand poked him in the face, but he didn't seem concerned with that. He was making a kind of gargling noise, and then his eyes went wide and glassy, and rolled back into his head.

He dropped to the floor a second time. Ron didn't know if he was dead or unconscious, but at least he wasn't trying to kill them.

"Oh my God," Hermione said softly, against the back of his neck. "I taught you that."

Ron was about to reply when something hit him hard on the side of the head. He tumbled, feeling Hermione's hand leave his, and blacked out.

~

A/N: Even more explanations to come. This was written at midnight by a very tired, hot, headache-y authoress, so please forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies. Hang on for the next bit. ~I'll be around~ Shez