DISCLAIMER: I own nothing – it all belongs to JK Rowling.
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Harry became aware of the whispering around him before he even knew he was fully awake. He could feel the crispness of the sheets underneath him, the woolly softness of the blanket covering him, and could even feel a faint shimmer of moving air against the skin of his face. After what had seemed like an eternity in a freezing blackness, it all felt wonderful.

Suddenly, he remembered what had happened. His eyes flew open and he shot into an upright position, scaring the tar out of the people around him. He stared around wildly.

"It's all right, Harry, you're safe," said a soothing voice to his left. Looking around, he saw an exhausted Dumbledore seated in his usual chintz armchair by the side of his bed. Harry realized he wasn't in his own bed, but was in the hospital wing. There seemed to be an awful lot of people there …

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna were arrayed in chairs around the bed, with Ginny closest to him. She was holding his hand, and gave it a tight squeeze when he looked at her, trying to smile. Her eyes were glistening with tears.

Standing at the end of his bed were Lupin and Tonks, and to his amazement, Moody, Professor McGonagall and Snape.

"What … what's going on?" he rasped, his throat dry and aching. Hermione, guessing what he needed, poured him a glass of iced water from the pitcher on his bedside cabinet. He took it gratefully and drank deeply.

"Well, it has been a rather eventful evening, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps you could tell us what happened to you?"

Swallowing hard, Harry struggled to remember. He told them about his dream, and then how he found himself flying into Voldemort's mind.

"And then … I felt my connection with reality disappear and I was just floating there, in the dark and the cold," he said softly, looking at Lupin. If it was possible, the werewolf was looking even older, greyer and more tired.

"The Legilimens Curse," Lupin breathed, aghast. "But there's no known record of anyone coming back! How did you manage it?"

Harry shook his head, confused. His scar was throbbing again. "I … I heard voices," he said. "Your voices." He looked around at his friends. "And then I saw a golden light and started going towards it. All the time, you were calling me, telling me to come back towards you. When I reached the light, I was bathed in it and then suddenly I was back in my body."

He looked at Dumbledore. "I don't understand … what happened?"

The headmaster leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. For the first time, Harry could see the weight of years on the man, how care and trouble had worn him down. He felt a flash of fear and concern.

"Harry, do you remember how I once told you that Voldemort underestimates certain types of magic?" Dumbledore started wearily.

Harry nodded. "Yes – you said that the protection of love my mother gave me was one that he underestimated, which is why his killing curse rebounded."

"Well, I suspect that what was invoked tonight was another form of ancient magic," said Dumbledore. "But before I speak about my theory, I would like your friends to tell me how they knew you were in trouble?"

Looking nervous, Ron leaned forward. "I heard Harry screaming," he said simply. "At first, I thought that it was another nightmare, and I was out of my bed and next to his before I was properly awake. And then I saw him. He was totally stiff, and cold, and he wasn't making a sound. But I could hear him screaming in my head." Ron shuddered, gooseflesh puckering the skin on his arms.

"Me too," said Hermione softly, as Ron fell quiet. Ginny, Neville and Luna all nodded agreement. "I knew I had to get to Harry as soon as I could. I was running up the stairs of the dormitory when I heard Ginny and Luna behind me."

"When we got to the dormitory, Neville and Ron were standing at Harry's bedside," whispered Ginny. "Harry looked awful – I've never seen him look so ill. But then, once we had all arrived, it was as if we knew exactly what we had to do. He was still screaming in our heads, and he sounded so panicked and terrified …" She broke off.

"So we picked him up and put him on the floor," said Neville, taking up the story, stammering only slightly. "We knelt around him and each put a hand on him, and the other hand on the shoulder of the person next to us. We started to concentrate as hard as we could on the sound of his voice, and to call him back to us."

Dumbledore was leaning forward in his chair, all traces of tiredness gone, blue eyes blazing. "No-one told you how to do this?" he said sharply. "You just knew what to do?"

Luna nodded. "We all had our eyes closed, but I felt warmth and light surround us," she said. "And then … I heard a sound I've never heard before. It was so beautiful, and clear, and it filled my head completely."

Harry nodded. "Phoenix song," he said. "I remember now."

"And Harry's screaming stopped, and he was getting closer and closer," said Ron, taking up the story again. "Then he was back – I felt him come back into his body. He opened his eyes and looked at us, and then seemed to go back to sleep. But it wasn't like before … he was actually there this time."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, and looked up at the teachers and other adults surrounding the bed. "You know what this means?" he said quietly to them.

Professor McGonagall was shaking her head incredulously, looking pale and drawn. "But Albus – it can't be …"

"I believe it is, Minerva," said Dumbledore, triumph flaring in his eyes. "Circulatim Infinitum Unitas."

There was a gasp of shock from the adults, while Harry and his friends simply looked confused.

"Dumbledore, surely that's just legend?" said Snape, who was looking flustered. "I didn't think that was based on fact at all."

"Hang on a minute … what is it?" said Harry impatiently. "What are you talking about?"

"I was right," said Dumbledore, sitting back in his chair. "This is an ancient magic, one that brings together a group of people with bonds so tight they will last for the rest of their lives. Many people have tried, over the years, to unite themselves in this way, but have been unsuccessful. The last time it worked was a thousand years ago – between Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw, when they united against Salazar Slytherin."

"But what does it mean?" burst out Ginny. "How did it happen without us knowing it?"

"When one of your number is in peril, the others unite in defense of that person," said Dumbledore, watching them closely. "Several key elements are needed."

He looked at them each in turn.

Ron: "Loyalty."

Hermione: "Honesty."

Neville: "Courage."

Luna: "Faith."

Ginny: "Love."

"When all of these elements are combined around a single entity that represents all of these things – in this case, Harry – the Circulatim Infinitum Unitas, or the Infinite Circle of Unity, is formed," continued Dumbledore. "This, I believe, represents the force that will ultimately be the undoing of Voldemort and his people."

"But I don't understand," said Harry, confused. "Why?"

Dumbledore was watching him closely. "Harry, for what reasons do Voldemort's followers stay with him?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Well, because of the promise of power, I guess," he said slowly. "Also, because he's blackmailed or tricked them into service, or because they're operating under the Imperius Curse."

"So why will those bonds not hold? Why did they not hold the last time Voldemort lost power?"

"Because once he's gone, his followers don't stay together – they separate to look after themselves," said Harry, realizing the truth. "They're together because of fear and ambition, no other reason."

"Exactly. But this group," Dumbledore indicated the six of them, "is together out of choice and a common aim – love for each other, love for freedom, and concern for the welfare of those around them. What did I tell you, five years ago, is the one thing Voldemort can never understand?"

Comprehension dawning, Harry said softly: "Love."

"You see it now, Harry? These people are with you because they care about you – nothing will drive them away, and they've proven that. Alone, you might not have made it against Voldemort. Together, I believe you will," said Dumbledore.

"But there was nothing about this in the prophecy!" said Harry, amazed.

"At the end of the day, Harry, it will still come down to you," said Dumbledore regretfully. "However, it seems you are no longer totally alone. And it is time, Harry, for you to allow others to help you shoulder your burden."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" said Neville sharply. "The prophecy – we smashed it in the Department of Mysteries! I saw it! We never heard what it said…"

"I did, when I got back here," said Harry glumly. "Professor Dumbledore has a memory of it, as the prophecy was made to him by Professor Trelawney. He told me."

There was a stunned silence.

"I think the time has come to tell them, Harry," said Dumbledore. "They have risked everything for you – more than once – and they must know what is at stake."

There were a few moments of awkwardness while Professor McGonagall went to fetch Dumbledore's pensieve. When she got back, Dumbledore took his wand and pulled threads of silvery thought from his mind with his wand, depositing them in the stone bowl. He stirred the moving mass and the ethereal figure of Sybill Trelawney rose, once more, and began to speak.

"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 must 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 …"

Harry was watching Neville carefully. As he listened to the prophecy, his eyes got bigger and rounder, and all colour washed from his face. When the figure had finished speaking, and had slowly dissolved back into the bowl, Neville looked at Dumbledore, ashen, mouthing silently.

"Yes, Neville," said Dumbledore steadily. "It could also have meant you. But Voldemort chose Harry because he was the most like him – a half-blood. He saw Harry as the biggest threat, because he never heard the end of the prophecy, only the start where the date of the birth of the child was foreseen. By attacking Harry, he passed on some of his powers to him and therefore, 'marked him as his equal'."

"Is this why my parents were tortured?" whispered Neville, shaking.

Dumbledore sighed. "We will never be sure, Neville, but I suspect that is the case," he said heavily. "It was initially believed that they were attacked because Voldemort's supporters thought they knew where their Master had gone. But thinking back, I believe it is likely that, crazed with fear, they tortured your parents to find out if you were indeed the one, and if Voldemort had made a mistake. He hadn't – Harry is clearly the one the prophecy spoke of."

Hermione had buried her face in her hands. Looking up, she gazed into Harry's eyes, her own full of tears. "Now I know why you've been so quiet – 'either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.' Oh, Harry – why didn't you tell us? You've been living with this for months …"

Harry looked down at the bedspread. "I had to come to terms with it myself," he mumbled. "It's difficult to believe that you're either going to be a murderer or a victim – no way around it."

There was a pause, as they all contemplated this reality.

"There is one last thing that I must ask," said Dumbledore. "The Circulatim Infinitum Unitas usually leaves a mark – one that identifies you as a member of this inner group. Tell me – did any of you feel pain when you joined together?"

Almost as one, each of them raised a hand to their hearts, looking surprised and fearful. Dumbledore nodded. "Mr Weasley, may I ask you to open your shirt?" he said, smiling at Ron's sudden consternation.

Blushing wildly, Ron unbuttoned his pyjama top. There, on his chest just above his heart, was a faint white mark – in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Harry was horrified. "But … but it's like the Dark Mark!" he spluttered. "That also appears on Voldemort's followers when he calls them!"

"Yes, but the difference is that these marks are here by the choice of your friends, not by force," said Dumbledore. "And that makes all the difference in the world."