See Spot run. See Jane artfully avoid progressing too far with the plot as she struggles to make it up. Well, I think it's a cool chapter anyway. Bit of a flashback-type-thing. Andrew wanted me to do this dream and concentrate a little more on Harry's remorse, so here it is. ( Now I want him to review it, the tofu-head.) Hope you like it.

Harry's body ached. His skin smarted with the fresh sting of new bruises. He pressed his face onto the floor where he had fallen, too tired to move, knowing now that it was futile to try to rise.

"That hurts, doesn't it, Potter?" Voldemort's cold voice sliced through the red haze of pain that was Harry's existence. "Hurts to suffer alone. To be left behind by everyone you deemed loyal." The voice was above Harry now. Harry's scar felt as though it was being burned by white-hot metal. A sob stuck in his throat.

"They will have to be punished for this, of course," Voldemort said, in a falsely sympathetic voice. "After I have killed you, I will punish them." Harry heard the rustle of a cloak as Voldemort crouched near him. He felt a fingertip as cold as ice touch the back of his neck. He was too tired to scream. "the girl, Granger... she will be punished, punished very slowly... and Weasley. I shall find my uses for him. He shall be an example, as will you. He may prove to be very useful indeed..."

The thought of his friends lying maimed and unhonored in their death seemed to slap Harry in the face. He twisted away, driven by sudden anger. Voldemort made no move to stop him as he scrambled to his feet. Harry watched Voldemort stand slowly up, twirling two wands between his long fingers; and he knew he was powerless. Voldemort smiled, guessing his thoughts.

"That's the flaw in all of you," he said quietly. "That is your weakness. You care too much. You would gladly let me kill you, just to keep me from hurting your friends." He took a step toward Harry and his smile widened. "But what you fail to realize, Saint Potter, is that once you are dead, there is nothing at all that you can do to keep me from killing them as well." His smile broke into a laugh. His red eyes glowed. "This is where your heroism has led, Harry!" He laughed, screaming the words out. They rebounded off the stone ceiling of the chamber and seemed to surround Harry, blocking him from every side. "To death! Your death, your friends' death, and my victory!"

And Harry knew that it was over.

Voldemort's eyes bored into Harry's as he snapped Harry's wand in two and cast the pieces away. They clattered over the stones. Harry felt a trickle of blood slide down the bridge of his nose. Voldemort raised his wand...

The next few moments passed like a rushing wind. Harry was dimly aware of the door bursting open, banging against the wall; Voldemort turned his head and Harry felt a tiny flame of desperate, irrational hope flare inside him. He lunged forward; felt his fingers close on Voldemort's wand; felt his scar pound with pain as Voldemort's angry words screamed into his ears; words aimed not at Harry, but at the people in the doorway...

"What have you done! Kill them! Potter is mine! MALFOY!"

"Harry!" Ron called. Harry could see his best friend dimly before him, limping and sliding across the wet floor, blood on his face...

"Ron!"

There were other shapes behind him too. More red hair... blond hair... he let his weariness conquer him. Now they were here, and he could rest...

"Heroism? Love? Sacrifice?" An angry voice thick with tears called. "Accomplish only death? Maybe so, but it is your fatal mistake! Your death!" Ronald Weasley stood before Voldemort, leaning heavily on one leg, his wand raised. He stood between Harry and Voldemort.

But Harry, grasping Voldemort's wand, still hesitated, tired. And that was his mistake, the mistake that almost cost Ron his life.

Harry screamed. Anger, panic and guilt melted together inside of him as Ron skidded across the floor and lay still. Voldemort's eyes, bulging with rage and triumph, turned on Harry again. He reached to reclaim his wand. At that moment, Harry felt only hate. Voldemort had taken so much from him and now threatened to take away the person dearest to him.

Harry found a new, raw power within himself, a power that he feared and hated and loved at the same time. He raised his wand, the two terrible words upon his lips.

"Harry!" he heard Ron's voice coming from far away.

"I won't let him take you, Ron!"

"No, Harry, listen to me!"

"I'm sorry, Ron!"

Ron's hands were on his shoulders now, and the white face of Voldemort swam before his eyes as though he saw it through thick, rippled glass. "Harry, wake UP!"

Harry's eyes snapped open.

The dim light of Dumbledore's office came into focus. Harry had let himself sleep in his chair. Ron's face hovered above his own, a look of concern etched into it.

"You okay?" he asked. Harry nodded numbly. "I was going to let you sleep, but... well, you know." He straightened up. "They've been here for about fifteen minutes. Dumbledore just got all the potions distributed." He held up a small phial.

"You don't need to do that," Harry croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Really. I don't want you to." He sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Don't worry about it, mate. Dumbledore knows what he's doing. There's really not much risk. I mean, in comparison." He put the phial into a pocket of his robe and grinned. Harry hesitated, then grinned back.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked, striding back into the room. He stood in the middle of the darkened office and clapped his hands, looking around at the figures that had followed him in.

Harry stood up to join them. Fred and George Weasley stood with their arms crossed and nodded at Harry. Cho Chang stood quietly behind them next to Ginny Weasley. Ginny's glance lingered on Harry, and she smiled a little at him before her face returned to a solemn concentration. Mad Eye Moody had clunked into the room, followed by Charlie and Bill Weasley. Hermione had returned as well. Lee Jordan and Michael Corner stood near her, with Severus Snape.

"Right then," Dumbledore began, looking around seriously at them all. "If Lucius Malfoy wants Harry, then he will get Harry. More than he knows what to do with. Let us see if he can think on his feet, so to speak."

Harry thought he heard Fred chuckle.

"First things first," Dumbledore continued. "To find him. Or rather... let him find us."

He stepped to the fire and threw a handful of glittering powder into the flames.