Chapter Fourteen—Commander Hero

Of course, as soon as Harry returned to the common room, he was faced with a barrage of questions from his terrified friends. Ginny had had the sense to tell only Ron and Hermione what had happened, but the three of them were very clearly struggling not to explode with the stress of not knowing what Dumbledore had said. They pulled him to the couch by the fireplace and swarmed him, demanding answers. In a low voice, he told them more or less what his vision had consisted of, though he didn't tell them what Zelda had explained to him, and concluded with the story he had invented on his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"It was nothing. I told Dumbledore about it, and he said that because it was so different from all my other dreams, he doesn't think it really matters. And because I didn't get into anybody's head, it wasn't dangerous that way."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Hermione protested in a low hiss. "Something like that… It can't just mean nothing!"

"There's no way it wasn't important, Harry," Ginny agreed firmly. "I saw what happened, and that was definitely something major. Besides, what's taking Link and Zelda so long to come back?"

They were still in the Headmaster's office, discussing tactics, Harry presumed. "I don't know," he said, semi-truthfully. "Seems like they always have big stuff to talk about that they don't fill me in on."

His friends could accept this without question, but they weren't buying his first excuse. "What's going on, mate?" Ron asked bluntly. "You're not saying something."

Harry shrugged and gave an irritated sigh. "Okay, look, maybe it was something, but Dumbledore's not telling me. Maybe he doesn't know what it is, either, and he doesn't want to just make a mad guess. Maybe… I don't know, maybe he just doesn't think I'm old enough to handle the truth yet—"

"Heaven knows he should be past that," Hermione muttered.

"I know," Harry agreed. "Bottom line is, if it means anything, he didn't tell me, and that's all there is to it."

Knowing there would be further objections, he waited, looking around at them all and wondering who would be the first to speak.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, though she looked distinctly irked by this lack of information.

Ron shrugged and said, "Well…whatever, I guess."

Ginny simply gave Harry a particularly angry scowl, before heading off to her dormitory.

"What's up with her?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow in bemusement.

Harry was about to say that he didn't have a clue, because that was at least the complete truth, when his stomach growled and he remembered that he still hadn't had any lunch yet. "Dunno…but I'm starving," he said. "Is lunch still going on?"

"It just finished."

"Oh. I guess I'm breaking into the kitchens, then," Harry decided nonchalantly, rising from his chair.

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Unsurprisingly, Dobby was one of the first in the Hogwarts kitchens to meet Harry. He came zipping past his fellow house-elves to embrace Harry tightly around the middle, only prevented from winding him completely because Harry was prepared for it based on previous experience.

"Hey, Dobby," he said, managing to pry the small creature off of him. "Good to see you."

"And Dobby is very happy to see you, sir!" Dobby squeaked, clasping his hands. "The other elves has been telling Dobby that you is forgetting me, sir, but I is telling them right back, 'Harry Potter is noble and loyal, and he is never forgetting his friends!'"

Which caused a pang of guilt to surge through Harry's stomach.

"Oh…yeah, of course not."

"What can Dobby help you with, sir?" the house-elf added, bowing with a bright smile.

"Actually, I missed lunch. Training for Quidditch and stuff. Are there any leftovers?"

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir! We has not started cleaning up the dishes yet! Lunch is still over there! You can eat whatever you likes, sir!"

He pointed across the massive kitchen to the table that corresponded to the Gryffindor one in the Great Hall above it. The many dishes of lunch, half eaten, but still just as good, were sitting there.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, starting to head for the table.

"You is very welcome, sir!"

On impulse, though he couldn't have said why, he turned back and called, "Hey, Dobby… Could you do me a favour?"

Far from being inconvenienced, the house-elf looked ecstatic at the prospect. "Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir, yes, whatever you is needing!"

"Is there a parchment and a quill around here somewhere? I need to write something."

With a hurried bow, Dobby rushed away, and returned momentarily, having procured the required items.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking them and trying to think of a way to word what he needed without terrifying the loyal house-elf. "Listen, Dobby…I'm going to write something, and I need you to…I mean…"

He paused, then tried again.

"I'm going to write something, and I'm going to give it to you. And if you…if in the next few weeks, you hear some bad news about me…" Seeing Dobby's eyes widen in fear, he hurriedly amended, "I'm not saying there will be bad news, because I don't think there will, but just in case…unless I come back and tell you otherwise before then, if you hear some really bad news about me…could you give this to my friends?"

Dobby was still stiff with apparent fear, his hands clutched together anxiously, but he merely squeaked, "Yes. Yes, Harry Potter, sir, Dobby will."

"Thanks," Harry said again, but with a heavier note in his voice this time.

Grabbing a leg of chicken, Harry sighed and turned his attention to the blank parchment before him.

This was harder to begin than any letter to Remus and Sirius. He just hoped that it would never see the light of day.

By the time he had finished lunch, Harry had written everything he thought he wanted to, and reread it before handing it off to Dobby.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny,

If you're reading this, it's because I can't give it to you in person. You'll have heard the rest of the story, and while I'm writing this, it hasn't happened yet, so I'll just say that I'm sorry I didn't tell you before that I was going to fight. I didn't want to drag you all into this. It's between those of us with the duty to the Triforce.

First of all, and most importantly, I don't want you to worry about me, no matter you've heard, no matter what's happened. Everything that we've been through, and Link and Zelda, too, proves that there is such a thing as destiny, and the goddesses don't allow anything to happen if it's not supposed to. I'm sure everything will work out for the best, even if it doesn't seem that way now.

Second, I want you all to know how much I appreciate that you've always been there for me since I first met you, and the fact that I didn't bring you into this with me doesn't mean that I don't care about you. Like I said before, I didn't want to put this on your shoulders. You weren't born into this, no prophecy said you were going to grow up to fight evil, no sword chose to you wield it against evil, no scar marked you. All those things happened to me and only me.

I know what you're thinking: We didn't hear what that prophecy said at the end of last year, we don't know what was supposed to happen. But I did hear it. Dumbledore told me about it. It said that I was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord, and that one of us would have to kill the other in the end.

This was my fight. It always has been. I'm just sorry you had to find out this way.

He paused for a long time over the signature, feeling strangely hollow, as though he were dreaming. He tried to blink this feeling away, but it remained, just as the horrible dryness in his throat did no matter how hard he swallowed.

From…Sincerely…Yours truly…Best wishes…

Love,

Harry

He folded the letter, sincerely hoping, again, as he had done with each sentence he wrote, that no one would ever have to read this letter…because in the event that they did…it would be far too detached and aloof to come near whatever they would be feeling, and grossly inadequate to say whatever he really meant.

Every day was now obviously building towards battle—at least, to Harry, it was obvious. No one else seemed to find anything particularly unusual about how Link was putting him through his paces in combat (as well as honing his own skills) with a drive that was dramatically unlike his usual upbeat self, or how Zelda spent most of her time lost in thought and muttering to herself as tiny shocks of magic crackled and sparked from her fingers. The teachers, though, must have been aware of what was going on, because none of them seemed to care that Harry's grades were slipping as he devoted more time to swordplay and archery.

One day, after a hard evening's training, as Harry panted for breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, Link looked him over appraisingly and said decided, "You're good, Harry. Now that you've gotten used to the feel of a weapon in your hand, you're showing a definite talent." He folded his arms and nodded thoughtfully; the fact that he wasn't smirking or inserting any of his usual sharp wit unnerved Harry slightly. He didn't quite know how to act around this version of the man. "When I die, I'll be satisfied to know that you're holding the Master Sword."

Harry didn't answer, but it wasn't just because he was out of breath or unsure what to say. Link must have noticed, because a small crease appeared in his brow.

"What's up, Harry?"

Some of his habitual friendliness had returned to his voice. This made it much easier for Harry to find words to explain what he was thinking.

"Link… How are you going to die?" he asked carefully, leaning against the sword that he had driven into the grass. "You're a soul, souls are immortal. So aren't you just…a ghost?" He knew this couldn't be right, since neither of the Hylians looked or acted like a ghost, but he didn't really understand how it wasn't true.

Sighing, Link slumped out of his military posture and dropped his arms to his sides. "I was wondering when this was going to come up," he commented, half talking to himself. More clearly, he explained, "I'm a soul and not a ghost because I preserved myself while I was still alive. People become ghosts when they arrange for the souls of their dead bodies not to leave this world, but the brief time between when they die and when the spell takes effect reduces the soul to something less…a ghost. My soul was taken from my living body, so it is complete.

"As for how I'm going to die, well, complete souls are too divine to exist unconditionally here." He smirked. "We're just too good for this world, kid. So Zelda and I have been preserved under the stipulation that we can remain in this realm only so long as Ganondorf lives. When we kill him, all three of our souls will go on to the Sacred Realm. And all three pieces of the Triforce will be passed on."

Harry remained silent, staring at the sunlight that glinted off the blade of his weapon as he considered all this.

"You've got more questions, don't you?" Link asked quietly, barely breaking the silence between them.

Wondering vaguely if everyone found him this easy to read, Harry said, "Yeah…well…I was just wondering how it is you got into the Sacred Realm when you were alive? You told me something about Zelda and the Sages protecting you, but…" He let his voice trail off, the silence asking the question for him.

"Let me describe it for you," Link began, standing up straighter again. "I'm standing inside the Temple of Time. It's this stone building, all white, stained glass windows, vaulted ceiling, the whole thing. At the far end is a stone platform thing where the three Spiritual Stones go, and a couple of stairs on either side that lead up to the Door of Time… which, incidentally, is really more of a wall than a door, but that's not the point. So I play the Song of Time, and the Door of Time just disappears, so it's this huge empty archway…"

Harry didn't quite notice that the hairs on the back of his neck had started to stand up.

"…and I climb the stairs up to it and walked through it, and there's the Master Sword on the other side. I pull it up out of the Pedestal of Time, and woosh, suddenly I'm time traveling. Next thing I know, I'm seventeen, and the world's been shot to hell by Ganon." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "That's what I saw, anyway. The technicalities of it are that I opened a temporal hole by taking the sword, a gateway between this world and the Sacred Realm. And as long as the Master Sword is in use, as long as the Triforce is still divided and not back where it belongs, that hole has remained open."

Funny, Harry thought, how clearly he could picture the scene, even though he had never seen it before. No, that wasn't quite true, because he had dreamed about it on the night they had resurrected the Hylians… Except—a chill ran up his spine—it had been different…

"That's what Sirius fell through," he breathed in hollow disbelief, his mouth very dry, staring straight ahead as the image reappeared in his mind's eye. "That…that hole you opened, the archway on the dais in that huge room…in the Department of Mysteries…they research time there, time travel… And it was hung with a curtain, and….he fell through…and he didn't come back…"

When Link didn't answer, Harry looked up and saw that he wore an expression of utter shock on his face, which had gone white, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Managing, with visible difficulty, to find words, he stammered, "I… Harry, I don't know what to—"

"Don't worry about it," Harry told him shortly, blinking and looking down. "It's not your fault. I mean, you didn't do it on purpose or anything."

"No, but still… I just hate to think that anything I did—"

"You didn't know," Harry insisted. "You can never predict what one little thing is gonna do, especially not nine thousand years later. I've done time travel, I know. And so have you, so you should've learned that by now, too," he added.

"Yeah," Link agreed, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair, "I know. Kinda hard not to. But I've just always hated that I can't control everything. I hate that my whole life was planned out for me… I mean, for Din's sake, it was written in our holy text, everything I would do!" he burst out unexpectedly, talking more to himself than to Harry. "And destiny just got to do whatever it wanted with my life, without giving a damn if maybe that would make things difficult for me, or if maybe I would rather have had a mother than become a hero… I just…" He made a frustrated gesture in mid-air, as though he wished he could grip something to take out his anger on it, before finishing bleakly, "I hate that."

Professor Trelawney's voice, as it had issued from her misty form floating in Dumbledore's Pensieve, suddenly drifted into Harry's mind, harsh and forceful: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

"Yeah," he said heavily. "I know what you mean."

That Saturday was to be the day.

Zelda and Link told Harry so covertly on Thursday morning; apparently the Pensieve had made its way to Grimmauld Place, where all those people who would be coming with them into battle had visited Harry's memory. First thing when the weekend began, before the sun had risen, they would leave Hogwarts for London, and by late morning they would be launching an attack.

They explained this perfectly calmly, as if it were the sort of thing they did every day, in a rare moment during which Harry could actually appreciate that they had once been powerful world leaders.

"Oh," he replied stupidly. "Okay, then."

Now it was Friday night, and the atmosphere was strange. Harry was trying to act normally, because no one was to know what was going on, and the Hylians were doing the same, but he rather thought they would have been chatting normally anyway. They did retire to bed at an unusually early hour for beings who didn't need sleep, but no one seemed to notice or care.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, as he stared at the empty stairwell which Link had just ascended to his dorm.

"Huh?" he blinked his attention onto her. "Oh…no. Just thinking."

"About what?" Ron asked.

A true answer to this question would have taken several hours to give. He was thinking about how unreal it seemed to be sitting here in the Gryffindor common room, an hour or two after dinner, calmly talking with his friends before the fireplace, putting off homework as always on a Friday night, knowing full well that he was going to war in the morning. About how disturbing it was to think that no one but him knew—Ron and Hermione didn't distinguish this day from any other as they sat together on the couch, his arm around her, smiling and looking at Harry just as they had always done, not knowing that they would wake up in the morning to find him gone…

The word gone made his stomach grow heavy, sinking so low in his body that it dissolved. He refused to allow himself to think about it, but it continued to echo against his will in the back of his mind. Gone.

Just for a while, he told himself sternly. I'll be back in classes again when the weekend's over. I'll be away one day, maybe two, but probably not. Just until the battle's over. Just until Link and Zelda defeat Ganon, and then…

Abruptly, he realized that after this battle, they would be really gone. He had become so accustomed to their presence that he had forgotten they hadn't always been here. Of course they sometimes showed their ignorance of the wizarding world, but didn't Harry himself do the same thing on occasion? They were as much a part of life at Hogwarts as trips to Hogsmeade on weekends, or insults exchanged with Draco Malfoy when teachers weren't looking, or Peeves lurking around a corner to wreak havoc, or Professor Binns' droning voice putting a class to sleep, or the giant squid waving its tentacles above the water on lazy summer days, or…anything else.

The library would seem empty without Zelda taking up an entire table with books on every subject from Apparition techniques to Zulu wizarding government (which she would later tell them about over dinner). Quidditch would seem boring without Link fulfilling his promise to be the most unbelievably vociferous supporter cheering from the stands (which he had taken to doing even when Gryffindor wasn't playing). And the common room would seem quiet without the queen yelling at the knight about the latest irritating thing he had done.

He would really miss them.

Realizing that Ron was still waiting for an answer, Harry said simply, "Just…classes next week."

Lying awake in bed that night, Harry found himself wishing he'd said something more profound to his friends before he'd headed up off sleep than "'Night." But what else was there? After all, it wasn't like he was never going to see them again.

Besides, Link and Zelda weren't going to see them again, and they hadn't said anything special… In fact, this struck him as quite sad now that he thought of it. They hadn't gotten to say goodbye…

All in all, it was amazing that he managed to drift off as quickly as he did, into an utterly dreamless sleep.

Early in the morning, before sunrise, Harry awoke and dressed silently. Dumbledore had told him that, while he couldn't tell anyone explicitly that he was leaving or where he was going, he could leave them a note telling them not to worry. He quickly composed one to leave on his bed.

Ron,

I can't tell you where I am, but I can tell you that I'm safe, and I'll be back soon, hopefully tonight. I'm really sorry this has to be a secret, and I know how horrible it is to be left in the dark, but I don't have a choice.

Tell Hermione and everyone for me.

See you really soon.

Harry

He felt he should have emphasized more how sorry he was to be leaving like this, but he somehow didn't really feel like he was going anywhere yet, even as he lay this small bit of parchment on his blankets and tiptoed out of the dorm.

Down in the common room, he found Link and Zelda waiting for him. They nodded in greeting at the sight of him, but said nothing, and beckoned him silently after them and out of Gryffindor Tower. Once in the halls, Zelda spoke quietly.

"We're going to number twelve, Grimmauld Place for breakfast and to get ready," she said. "Dumbledore told us you know the place?"

"Yeah, I do," Harry replied simply, choosing not to get into the details of his relationship with it. "Did he say how we're getting there?"

"No."

They said nothing more until the arrived at the Entrance Hall, where they found Dumbledore waiting for them, along with Tonks. Her appearance was comparatively bland today, as she appeared as a young woman with freckles, grey eyes and a short, dirty blonde ponytail. Winking and smiling, though with slightly diminished enthusiasm that was tempered by the seriousness of the occasion, she greeted them, "Wocher. Are we all here, then?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore; he was speaking quietly, but his voice still commanded respect. Holding up a mug that he held in one hand, he explained to the Hylians, "This is a Portkey. You simply have to touch it, while I count to three, and it will take us to our headquarters."

He held it out, and Harry and Tonks reached out to touch it without hesitation, both being quite accustomed with the process. Link and Zelda exchanged mildly intrigued looks, but didn't hesitate to lay their own hands on the Portkey as well.

"Ready," said Dumbledore. "One…two…three."

The feeling of being jerked from behind the navel was familiar to Harry, but he heard on his right a sharp intake of breath from Link and a small, quickly stifled gasp from Zelda when it happened. He wondered, during the brief period when they were all swirling in colours, how this could be strange to them when they were used to teleporting, as he had seen in the Forbidden Forest; of course, that had been slightly tamer.

When they landed solidly, he turned his attention quickly to attempting to remain on his feet. He stumbled, but remained standing, and saw Zelda trip over the hem of her skirt and fall into Link. He wasn't expecting it, and she nearly brought him down with her, but he managed to catch her at the last second. Pulling herself back upright and brushing the windswept hair from her face, she growled, "Damn dress."

Harry couldn't help smirking; there was definitely something less than dainty about this perfect lady.

"You're changing for the battle, aren't you?" Link asked.

With a faint smile, Zelda replied shrewdly, "Sheik wouldn't miss this for the world."

She raised her arms to transform herself, but before she could, two people entered the room to greet the visitors, looking as though their arrival was completely anticipated.

The first was a fairly tall young man whom Harry knew to be about twenty years old. He was dressed in immaculately neat robes of deep navy blue, wore rimless glasses, and had distinct Weasley hair. The sight of him was a pleasant surprise, because the previous year, Percy Weasley had been estranged from his family. It was good to see that he had rescinded his coldness, even if he did look awkward facing Harry for the first time since deciding to believe him.

The second man was older, in his thirties, but aged beyond his years. His light hair was already streaked with grey, and although he was no longer as thin with hunger as he had once been, his face remained lined and tired looking. He appeared to be as neat as could be expected, given that his robes were fairly shabby and layered against the winter cold. Despite it all, he wore a welcoming smile, which Harry was sure was a valiant effort to hide the deadened look of grief that haunted his eyes.

"Hi, Remus," Harry greeted him with a smile. It was the first time they had seen each other in person since a group of Order members had turned up at King's Cross at the beginning of the previous summer in order to threaten the Dursleys on Harry's behalf.

"Nice to see you, Harry. I got your last letter. Congratulations."

"Wha—? Oh," Harry laughed, remembering the Hufflepuff Quidditch game that had consumed his most recent correspondence. "Thanks."

"Hello, Harry," said Percy, apparently compensating for his antecedent unjust behaviour through added formality. "And Professor Dumbledore…good to see you again." He gave a slight bow of his head.

Smiling, Dumbledore replied, "Not half so good as it is to see you again, Mr Weasley."

This must have been their first reencounter as well, Harry thought. Apparently not knowing what to say, Percy simply cleared his throat with a cough.

"May I introduce out guests and allies," Dumbledore went on, indicating the Hylians. "This is Queen Zelda Hyrule I, and Sir Link Hero. Link, Zelda, these are Remus Lupin and Percy Weasley, two of our members."

Hellos and pleased-to-meet-yous were exchanged all around, then Remus said seriously, "Everyone's gathered in the kitchen, Dumbledore."

"Excellent."

They all went downstairs together into the basement kitchen, where more members of the Order of the Phoenix were gathered. Link and Zelda met, among others, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Dodge, Hestia Jones, and several more Weasleys: Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and—to Harry's surprise—Fred and George.

"Yeah, we've joined," said George, spotting Harry's unconcealed disbelief.

"We've been of age for over a year, and we want to do our bit," Fred added.

"Not that we're going on this little adventure," George amended.

"We're leaving the combat up to the trained pros," agreed Fred with a grin, nodding toward Link and Zelda.

But Harry knew there was another reason, which they weren't mentioning: because their mother would chain them to a wall if they tried to put themselves in harm's way. It occurred to him, as he was thinking this, that Charlie was a new arrival, too. He had been stationed in Romania the previous year, where he was doing something about spreading the word of Voldemort and keeping an eye out for international activities of his recruiting Death Eaters. Harry supposed that this was less important now that the government and public at large had acknowledged Voldemort's return to strength.

"So," Link said briskly, clapping his hands together, "what have we got in the way of an attack plan? I know that with a group this small we can't go for the more traditional offences of an entire army, but this isn't a traditional battle. We just have to get in, find Ganon and Voldemort. Then it's really a four on two conflict, or a pair of two on one conflicts. First issue is breaching security."

His question had turned into an answer; while the Order had devised a plan, Link took over in a matter of seconds. It was obvious, even to those who had only just met him, that he was used to being the leader of an attack; he saw the most obscure flaws in a plan, knew what the enemy would be thinking, and thought of a responsive strategy for every possible scenario. For example, he recommended they use code names, since they were going into battle with enemies who knew them by their real names. Each person had a strictly dictated role, and he organized within minutes a system of commands to change these roles if the need arose. He addressed all questions swiftly, explained himself thoroughly, and was concise and clear enough that even those people who had never seen combat before knew what they would be doing.

After two and a half hours, during which they ate the delicious breakfast provided by Mrs Weasley, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that they quite simply could not have been more prepared. He also found, as he ate, that he wasn't nervous, but rather felt oddly detached from his own body. He looked down at his hands, and they looked more three dimensional than usual. Being in a battle was not a new experience for him, but being in one this organized, or even one that he knew was coming…that was uncharted territory.

Undoubtedly, however, the strangest moment was when he took off his robe and, standing there in the Muggle clothes of a typical teenage boy, slung onto his back a quiver of arrows and a bow. His wand was tucked into his pocket; that at least felt natural.

Everyone was getting ready in silence. They were all dressed in unrestrictive Muggle clothes, like Harry, with a few exceptions. Dumbledore never changed out of his robes, Link always went into battle in his green tunic and hat, and Zelda would be changing into Sheik momentarily. Presently, she held one of Link's arrows (he was the only one besides Harry who carried weapons other than a wand; the Master Sword, along with his own bow) and was waving her hand around its head in what was apparently an enchantment. When she had finished, the arrow glowed with a bright yellow light that didn't fade. Harry remembered Link's words when they had first started training his archery—"The Master Sword's just half of the battle. The more famous half, but still just half. You also need the Light Arrows."

As Zelda handed Link back his shaft and he slid it into his quiver, she said to Harry, "Give me one of yours, too."

He complied, and she enchanted it in the same way, explaining, "Any of your arrows will have that power now, if you just think about it while you're firing." Harry nodded his comprehension, and then the queen prepared herself.

She performed the same technique she had done in Transfiguration class, invoking light with her hands and bringing it over her body in a blinding flash, which faded to present what looked like a young man dressed in blue and white. Harry couldn't help feeling slightly smug that he was one of the three people in the room who had seen this already, but even he found himself gaping when Sheik tested his weapons. With several quick flicks of the wrist, he conjured the shiv Zelda had used in her demonstration with Link, which he spun between his fingers; then he replaced it with a long, thin chain that he sent out like a whip; then he made this vanish and produced in the same hand a quick succession of five throwing stars. Perhaps the most amazing part of this presentation was the skillful indifference with which he lightly manipulated each of these items.

"All right, then," Link said, carefully examining the tip of his blade before sheathing it across his back; he and Dumbledore were the only ones present who weren't remotely impressed by Sheik's display of talent. "Roll call, by code names. Gold?"

"Yes," said Kingsley.

"Moony?"

"Here."

They proceeded through all the names, most of which were ones that made obvious sense to Harry as a reflection of the personality of the one they were assigned to.

"Phoenix?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

"Sheik?"

"Uh-huh."

"And… Prongs?"

Harry swallowed. "Uh-huh."

Clapping his hands again, Link said, "Well, we're all here, and we all know our names. We all know the plan?"

"Yes," they all answered clearly, as he had told them to. Harry found it odd to see Dumbledore taking orders from anyone, and also felt strangely compelled by Link's authoritative manner to add some sort of title.

"My name's Kokiri, if you need it," Link was now explaining, "or else just Commander. Ganon is Spirit, Voldemort is Tom. Right? Right. Now," he turned to Dumbledore, "you said you had our transportation arranged. Are we just gonna grab another one of those…Portkeys?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Twenty-four of us are too many to travel easily that way. We will be flying. I have arranged for Hagrid to bring up a herd of Thestrals."

Harry's first impulse at these words was to feel a pang of guilt; he hadn't seen or spoken to Hagrid in far too long, because his time had been occupied with school, Quidditch, and Link and Zelda. In fact, he hadn't even seen the groundskeeper since well before Aragog's death. Did Hagrid even know about it yet?

Putting this out of his mind, because it was irrelevant to the task at hand, his uneasiness instead fell on the fact that he knew most of the people in this room would be able to see the Thestrals—in some cases, because of Sirius.

Apparently Dumbledore was thinking the same thing, and Harry could see him mentally scanning the crowd and determining who would be able to see their mounts. After a moment's pause, he said, "Hermes, Opal, Osiris, Dragon… Have any of you witnessed a death?"

Using their code names in some way made the scene feel like a childhood game, but the sober atmosphere smothered that analogy thoroughly.

Percy and Elphias shook their heads, and Bill said slowly, "No…"

Charlie, however, cleared his throat and said simply, "Yes." He did not elaborate. Harry, recalling that Charlie worked with dragons and was considered by Hagrid to be good with animals, thought that the eldest Weasley must have understood the significance of the question. Dumbledore merely nodded and made no further inquiries.

"In that case," he said, "you other three will be unable to see the horses we will be riding. The rest of us will help you. I believe Hagrid should be arriving in the backyard any minute now."

"All right, then," Link ordered. "Dispatch."