There was no way Harry was going to go cower in the common room and wait for instructions. No, he knew exactly where he was going.

The hallway was easy to navigate – students were all moving quickly, single-file to their houses. It was easy to make his way to the Headmaster's office.

"Oi!" said one of the stone gargoyles, "What're you doing out of your common room? Don't you know we're in a state of – "

"Fizzing Whizzby," Harry hollered, angrily, "Sherbert Lemon – oh hang it, just open!"

"There's no need to shout, Harry," rang a muffled voice, and the gargoyles glared at him with surly expressions as the winding staircase opened for him.

Harry walked into the Headmaster's office to find Snape, writhing and gasping in pain, his arm extended. Madame Pomfrey was there as well, attempting to administer something to the livid scar, which looked as though it were burning horribly. There was the terrible smell of charred flesh hanging in the air.

"Innerva! Aitch!" said Madame Pomfrey, involuntarily dropping her wand, and sucking on her fingers, "I'm sorry Severus, I can't –"

"YOU!" Severus shrieked, his eyes finding Harry at last, an outlet for his agony.

It was distinctly unnerving. Snape looked absolutely mad – his sallow face was pale and sweaty, his hair disheveled, an expression of abject pain and horror stamped on his features. He was obviously struggling – Harry was reminded of Bartemius Crouch fighting off the Imperius. Even so, Harry had never seen the Potions Master with such a lack of self-control.

" I I – don't – want – him – here – Albus, /I " Snape hissed vehemently between gritted teeth.

"Headmaster, we have to do something," Madame Pomfrey said, clearly agitated.

Dumbledore's face was lined and careworn.

"Perform the jelly-gums curse, Madame Pomfrey."

Harry had no idea why these words got such a reaction – it sounded fairly harmless, but Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened, and Snape, despite his best efforts, let out a strangled moan. She stooped to pick up her fallen wand.

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, as though comforting a very small child. Harry had the familiar sinking sensation that he was seeing a side of his Potions Master he would have much preferred to remain private.

"Dengelato!" Madame Pomfrey said, shakily, pointing her holly wand at Severus's mouth. His jaw seemed to go slightly slack, and he stopped grinding his teeth. He let out another involuntary moan.

"Hold him," Dumbledore said simply.

Snape began breathing very hard through his nose, and he looked resolutely in the opposite direction. Madame Pomfrey appeared to be gripping his wrist with all her might. Dumbledore slowly pushed Snape's sleeve further back. He looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"Harry," he sternly, "Turn around."

Harry froze, gazing horror-struck at the Dark Mark – it was writhing, glowing red…Snape's arm had begun to blister. Dumbledore steadily aimed his wand at it.

"I am quite serious, Harry," Dumbledore reiterated, "Do not make me cast a Tiresius spell."

Harry jerkily turned around. There was a brief moment of quiet punctuated by Snape's breathing.

"Do it," Snape said, sounding odd with whatever they'd done to his mouth.

" I Reducto Dermis. /I " Albus said quietly.

A bloodcurdling screech filled the air, along with a tearing sound.

"Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore's voice came, sounding somewhat ill.

"Y-yes Headmaster," she stammered.

"You may turn around, Harry," Dumbledore said, wearily.

Feeling as though this were the last thing he wanted to do, Harry turned around to see Madame Pomfrey pressing an overlarge wad of gauze to Snape's forearm. Snape was shaking visibly, staring at his arm. All of a sudden, he began to laugh. First quietly, then louder and louder, maddened black eyes watering (probably from the pain), until Dumbledore put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Harry felt his insides go cold – he felt as he had when he was small, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had a screaming match (which in their case, meant seeing not who could scream louder at one another, but who could scream the loudest at Harry).

Snape fell silent, and turned a malevolent glare to Harry.

"Um…" Harry stammered, "I'm…I'm really sorry…I was just…"

Snape simply looked away in disgust.

"Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey said, her voice quavering, "That…that spell? That was – "

"I know what it was, Poppy," Dumbledore said, not unkindly. It seemed as though some of the light behind his eyes had gone out. "But we must fight fire with fire."

His cool blue eyes met Harry's. Harry was reminded of his earlier question to Dumbledore – as to whether he'd ever performed a Killing Curse. He thought he understood now.

Madame Pomfrey was just beginning to rub some kind of smelly salve on Snape's arm (and rather clumsily trying to use the gauze to hide the wound from Harry's view) when Professor McGonagall suddenly burst through a nearby portrait.

"Albus I've - good heavens! Severus!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. Her eyes found Harry next. "Mr. Potter!"

Under other circumstances her surprise would have been almost comical, it was so complete.

"You – what – why," she stammered, her nostrils flaring.

"Harry has a right to be here, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Albus, I am not sure that – "

"I'm doomed," Snape said, in his quiet, severe way, and they all turned to look at him, "You do realize that, Albus?"

"Not if we can help it," he said, as warmly as he could muster, "Err, take those away, Poppy, if you please?"

"Mm? Oh, yes, of course."

Madame Pomfrey hurriedly Evanesced the bloodied bandages and applied fresh ones. Snape seemed to relax a bit more.

"How?" Harry asked, "How is it possible? He's early – the Prophecy said – "

"Ah, yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, "But remember - Voldemort knew the Prophecy himself. He learned it when he visited your mind, that night of your Occlumency lesson."

"But Albus," McGonagall sputtered, "That means – that means he knew of the Prophecy, and made a deliberate decision –"

"To change it," Dumbledore finished simply.

There was a long pause as they all pondered this.

"I have always believed, Minerva, as well you know," Albus said, slowly, "That it is our choices that are the making of us. And, hopefully," he added firmly, "The unmaking of others. Lord Voldemort has never shied away from tampering in dangerous magics. He has tampered with Dark Magic, blood magic, with Life and Death itself…now, it appears he is attacking Fate, as well."

Harry's head was reeling. As much as he wanted to let Dumbledore wax poetic, he had friends to save.

"What do we do?" Harry asked, determinedly, feeling courage sweep blood back to his extremities, "What's the plan of action?"

"You, Harry, are to stay safe in the Gryffindor Common Room!" Professor McGonagall said sternly.

"No!" Harry said, "Err, Professor. I can't. This is still my fight."

"Harry, try to understand – if you are lost, all is lost," Dumbledore added.

Harry felt an irrational anger sweep through him, at his helplessness. So he could do nothing, then. Nothing to –

"That is why," Dumbledore continued delicately, "You must not fall."

There was a moment's stunned silence at this, punctuated only by a feeble "But," from Professor McGonagall.

"Stay to the rear, Harry," Dumbledore said, "And the D.A.? Try to keep them about you at all times."

"Albus!" McGonagall said, in a voice of quiet disbelief, as though she'd never really seen him before, "They are children! Not shields!"

Dumbledore paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. Harry sensed, more than saw, that he was near tears.

"It's fine," Harry said brusquely, "It's not his fault."

He didn't need to say whose fault it was.

"It's just the way it is. We'll be ready. What are the other plans?"

"Well," Dumbledore said, "Hopefully the wards will hold, though I can't imagine Tom hasn't planned for them somehow. Professors and the Order will have to deal with the Dementors. After that, we'll have to rely on our allies and our wits," he said simply.

"My associates are prepared," Snape said, quietly.

"I shall have Dobby inform the house elves," Dumbledore said sadly, "They will be so disappointed. They had a lovely pudding prepared for tonight…"

Under other circumstances, perhaps Harry would have laughed at this, but he suddenly felt as though this were, in fact, a small tragedy.

"I have word from Hagrid that his…err, associates are also prepared," McGonagall said, "Perhaps it's time we?…"

"Yes, I think so," Dumbledore nodded slowly, "Have Hagrid escort them to the castle."

"Hagrid's out there?" Harry gasped, "Headmaster, how are they –"

"Silence, Potter," Snape snarled, wheeling on him. He seemed considerably more composed now that Madame Pomfrey had put that smelly stuff on his arm and bound it, but he was still pale-faced and sweaty, "Can you not put some modicum of faith in your Headmaster, if not your Professors? Hagrid accepts the risks of his post, as do we all. Did you think that there would be no danger?"

"Severus," Albus said warmly, and remarkably, Snape held his tongue.

"Right then," Albus said, standing slowly, "Minerva, summon the other Professors, I want to speak with them. Let me know also if Tonks and Kingsley bring anyone from the Ministry."

Albus's cold fireplace suddenly flared up in green flame, and Mad-Eye Moody, Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Marlene McKinnon, Dedalus Diggle, and several other witches and wizards Harry didn't recognize began filing in one after the other.

Harry smiled to see Mrs. Weasley, expecting the bone-crunching hug he desperately needed. He was half-right.

"Harry!" she screeched, and smashed him roughly to her bosom. Almost as instantly, she shoved him away, hands still firmly gripping his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she hollered, "Get to your common room!"

"But – "

"NOW, young man!"

Harry was instantly cowed – Mrs. Weasley looked like a force of nature. She may have brooked some argument last year at Order meetings, when there was no immediate danger, but it was evident that she would not be as lenient in this situation – in fact, Harry pitied any Death Eater who crossed her path tonight. Behind her back, Fred and George gave him the thumbs-up sign, though their grins were belied by nervous glances towards their mother.

"Come along, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "I'll see you to your common room."

"Right," Harry said, stumbling over his feet in his haste to comply.

"No, don't be silly!" McGonagall said in her usual, business-like tone, "Through here."

Harry stopped walking towards the staircase, and shifted directions awkwardly to follow McGonagall through a life-size portrait of Godric Gryffindor hanging on the wall, which winked at him kindly, and swung open to admit the two of them. He followed her silently through a cold, stone corridor. There was a warm glow of torches as they walked by an oak door, with no lock or doorknob – only a brass nameplate reading, "Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress." He had time to venture a guess that it was another portrait-back, probably leading to her office, before the corridor grew dark and cold once more. Finally, Harry could see a rectangle at the end of the tunnel, as though it were drawn in light, growing larger and larger as they drew close to it.

"Here we are, then," McGonagall said, and tapped the center of the rectangle with her wand.

It swung open, and Harry realized it was one of the portraits on the side wall of the common room – he'd never known it could open before.

He took a step down, and nearly stumbled, as the floor was much lower than he'd expected.

"HARRY!"

Hermione and Ron were pushing their way through the crowded common room, elbowing people out of the way as gently as possible.

"Harry!"

Hermione flung her arms around his neck, sobbing in a way she would normally find most unbeseeming. Even Ron put an arm over Harry's shoulders, patting Hermione awkwardly on the back.

"We didn't know if –"

"I know," Harry said, trying very hard to stay calm.

"Well then," Professor McGonagall said, with her usual brisk, business-like tone, "Why isn't everyone in their dormitory?"

When no one responded, she sighed heavily.

"Well, if you'd prefer to stay together for now…but when I, or a Prefect sends word, it's straight up to your rooms, yes?"

"Yes, Professor," half the house muttered. The normally boisterous lot were all as quiet and frightened as new first years.

"The house elves will bring you some leftovers later. And I suggest you bring down your books, you'll have quite some time to do homework, I imagine."

Several of the younger students laughed shrilly, and then fell silent, as though daring to hope that this would all be over in a few hours. Conversation slowly began to wind up again in the common room, though it remained subdued.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said serenely, her lips barely moving, "There are first and second years here. Do compose yourself."

"S-sorry," Hermione said, wiping her eyes, and wiping her hand distractedly on Harry's sweater – he doubted she even noticed, "Yes. Of course." She coughed once or twice, and was back to herself. "You'll send word? Are the house elves prepared?"

"Everything is being taken care of, Miss Granger…Just make sure everyone stays here for now. It's the safest place." Her eyes wandered involuntarily over to Harry, who decided discretion was the better part of valor, and said nothing.

"I understand," Hermione said, briskly, then suddenly lowered her voice, "Professor – err, if it's alright with Harry, of course – would you like to borrow the map?"

"Map?" Professor McGonagall said, a curious expression on her face, "What map?"

Ron trod on Hermione's foot, but she brushed it off.

"Ouch! Ron, stop that. Well, there's this – "

"It's for Dumbledore," Harry interjected, shooting Hermione a look, "We think it might help. He knows what to do with it."

Professor McGonagall looked from one face to the other suspiciously.

"Alright," she said slowly, "May I have it?"

"Sure, we'll go get it," Harry said.

"I will wait here. Do hurry, please."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, briskly, and led the way to the boy's dormitory.

"What were you thinking!" Ron interjected in a angry hiss, once they were out of earshot, "That's Harry's map! Not yours!"

"Ron, there's more important things now! If the map helps, then Dumbledore ought to have it!"

"She's right, Ron," Harry interrupted, as Ron's red ears were an indication that he was about to tell Hermione exactly what he thought of that idea, "But, err, let's try not to give Professor McGonagall more information than is absolutely necessary."

"Right," Ron snorted, "Like who wrote the bloody thing? Or that generations of Gryffindors, including us three, have been using it to sneak all over the bloody school?"

"Honestly!" Hermione said, her voice sounding unnecessarily throaty, "Do you really think anyone's going to care about stupid things like that after – "

She interrupted herself, and looked away.

"It's fine," Harry said, eager to avoid another bout of scary, unfamiliar Hermione-crying, "Let's just get it."

They entered the sixth-years' dormitory to find only Seamus, and Neville, who were perched nervously on the edge of Ron's bed.

"Harry!" Seamus shouted, and Neville wheeled around.

"You're alright!" Neville beamed, his hand in his pocket – Harry realized he must have been smoothing one of the Droobles Wrappers from his mother – he was relieved to know his friends cared about him so much.

"Where's Dean?" Ron asked, nervously.

"Downstairs," Hermione said, "I saw him over in the corner, with Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny."

Harry felt a twinge of guilt that he'd hadn't looked for Ginny…but then again, if she was hiding in a corner, she might not have even noticed him arrive.

"They wouldn' let you face 'im?" Seamus asked Harry, his face drawn.

"Well, sort of," Harry said, a bit nettled. It wasn't as though he wouldn't, if they'd asked him to… "They'd rather I not, until there's no other option."

"Don't blame you, mate," Seamus said, shaking his head seriously.

"What's the plan?" Neville asked, standing calmly. Harry was momentarily bowled over by how tall and confident Neville looked.

"Err – well, just to hang tight, really…for now. They'll let us know when it's time…to err…you know. Do anything."

"What about the D.A?" Seamus asked, looking both excited and afraid, "What's our plan?"

"To wait," Ron said, conclusively.

Seamus looked a bit dubious, but any objection he might have voiced was silenced by the calm finality in Ron's voice. Harry set about rooting through his trunk. The map was there, tucked right at the bottom along with –

He paused, and gingerly picked up the stack of letters.

"Sirius's letters," Harry said, quietly.

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another nervously. Normally it would have bothered him, but Harry ignored it.

"I never read them."

After a moment, Ron walked over and clapped Harry firmly on the shoulder.

"You can read them after," he said, determinedly.

"I don't want to waste…you know…any time," Harry said, tracing the script on the top envelope: "Harry." How soon would he be seeing Sirius?

"So…you can read them right after," Ron said, squeezing Harry's shoulder almost painfully.

Harry nodded, and forced a grin up at Ron and Hermione.

"Right. Right after, I'll read them."

Hermione briskly busied herself tidying up Ron's bed, and Neville hastened to his own, to allow her some space. Harry put the letters back where they belonged, but something else caught his eye, a glint at the base of the trunk. Sirius's mirror.

For a while, he simply observed it – he felt strange.

Not quite understanding why, Harry picked it up out of the trunk, and put it in his pocket. He certainly wasn't going to need it. But something was definitely telling him, strongly, irresistibly, that he needed to take that mirror with him.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

Harry simply shrugged in reply. His scar prickled briefly, and he glanced out the window nervously.

"I think I can sense him nearby. It's funny that it's not stronger."

"He's probably trying to sever the connection," Hermione said matter-of-factly, putting Ron's books and notebooks into his bookbag, "Doesn't want you knowing what he's thinking or feeling – keeping us on our toes."

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, sounding amused.

"I'm packing your books."

"You don't think we're actually going to do homework?" Ron asked, disbelieving.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, bristling. Her eyes narrowed. Harry was relieved to see that she'd abandoned her overwrought personality for her typical, studious, serious one, "Exams are coming up."

"In months!" Ron protested.

"Yes," Harry thought, "This is good. This is normal."

"Why not, Ron?" Harry said, lightly, "We have some time. Besides, we ought to bone up on our Potions."

Ron either decided to avoid an argument, or wanted to do whatever Harry felt was best, because he didn't argue.

"Well, come on. Let's not keep Professor McGonagall waiting," Hermione beamed, her worry still visible underneath her smile. It reminded Harry of the way she'd just pulled up Ron's coverlet, to hide the dirty laundry scattered on his bed.

They made their way out the door, Seamus following.

"Coming, Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Oh," Neville said, his voice sounding funny, "I think I'll just stay here for a while, actually."

"Oh. Alright," Hermione said, casually, as though trying to sound completely reassuring and non-judgemental, "That's fine."

They made their way down the stairs. Harry tried very hard not to judge Neville – maybe he wasn't really afraid. Maybe he just wanted to be by himself for a while. And so what if he was? Who could blame him?

"Wanker," Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

Harry found Ginny waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and her freckles crinkled into a smile of relief.

"They told me you were back," she said.

"Yep," Harry said. He tried to think of something reassuring to say, something clever or funny, but couldn't quite manage it.

"I'm glad you're alright," she said, simply.

"Thanks," he said.

"You will let me know when anything happens? Don't be noble and try and leave me behind?"

"Of course!"

Ginny smiled. She looked for a minute as though she'd like to hug him, but something stopped her. She smiled a similar strained smile as Hermione's, and made a hasty retreat back to the corner, where Dean and Parvati were doing his best to reassure a shaken Lavender. Seamus followed her.

"Ah," Professor McGonagall said, scowling slightly over her spectacles, "There you are."

"Err, yes, sorry," Harry said, reaching into his back pockets, feeling his fingers brush the ancient parchment and the cool glass of the mirror, "Here you are."

McGonagall eyed the blank parchment dubiously.

"He'll know what to do with it," Hermione said, confidently.

Professor McGonagall looked at the three of them, and much to Harry's surprise, her stern expression melted into a warm smile.

"I never knew such students," she said, "For knowing entirely too much. More, even, than I do, apparently."

"No," Hermione stammered, flushing, "Certainly – I mean – we're just – "

"I am very, very proud to have been your teacher," she said, warmly, with the slightest of winks, "One hundred points to Gryffindor."

And with a swish of black robes, and the creak of the portrait, she was gone.

"What does she mean, 'have been' your teacher?" Ron asked, his expression surly.

No one answered him.

The hours dragged. The nervous energy slowly dissipated into sombre quiet. Several students (including Ron and Hermione) had books open, but Hermione was the only one actually doing any work. Others occasionally read one sentence and scribbled something in their notes, but it was clear that no one was making any headway. The occasion didn't exactly call for Exploding Snap, or Gobstones. Ron and Harry thought of playing a round of wizard's chess, but didn't feel like going back up to the dormitory to get their set. Besides, they finally agreed, they'd probably be hard-pressed to concentrate on their moves.

After a while, a few house-elves that Harry had never met brought up several trays of leftovers and neatly-stacked sandwiches, along with a pitcher of pumpkin juice. They set it on one of the tables, and left with deferential smiles. Hermione made a point of thanking each of them, which only seemed to disturb them slightly (and gave Ron cause for a rare snicker). Harry made himself eat, his jaw working woodenly, but everything tasted odd, and most of the food remained on its tray, looking slightly bedraggled.

After a while, the fire in the common room gutted low, and students wandered up to their dormitories in small clumps, under the pretense of getting some sleep. Harry suspected that most of them were ready to be in small groups, with close friends, huddled together in quiet hope and fear.

He, Ron, and Hermione stayed in the common room. There was no doubt that that's where they would wait. Harry noticed that it was primarily D.A. members who remained.

Broderick Johnson came walking over, most of his usual swagger subdued.

"I just wanted to let you know, Harry, that I'm – "

"- staying here," Harry finished for him.

Broderick opened his mouth as though to protest, but simply looked away, scowling at Harry's expression.

"Look, we need help here, Broderick," Hermione said, earnestly, "Ron and I are prefects. If we get called away…you see? We need strong people to keep everyone safe here."

"You're just saying that," Broderick said, but he seemed uncertain.

Ron snorted, "If you think being Prefect's easy – "

"No, no, I didn't say that," Broderick corrected hurriedly. He took a deep breath, and forced a grin, "Right. I understand. You can count on me."

"Thanks, Broderick," Harry said, with a nod.

"He's so young," Hermione whispered, as he walked back over to Arthur Aaronson, and several other first-years.

"We're not exactly ancient ourselves," Harry replied, dryly.

They tried to return to their books for a while, tried to make conversation for a while, and even attempted a half-hearted game of twenty questions, which Ron didn't really understand. ("But what's so special about Harry's trainers? You mean to say we spent the last twenty minutes asking stupid questions about Harry's trainers?") And then, they returned to their homework. After another couple of hours, Ron finally abandoned all pretense, and put his books on the floor with a dull thud, ignoring Hermione's stern glance, and the nervous starts of those across the room. As the hands of the clock drew closer and closer to midnight, everyone else also stopped what they were doing to watch the clock.

At eleven fifty, McGonagall entered via the portrait again, making everyone jump.

"In your dormitories, please," she said, and left just as abruptly.

Most students stood up, and hastened to comply. Several members of the D.A., however, stayed where they were.

"You heard Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, sternly, "Go on."

"And what about you?" Dean asked, pointedly.

"I'm a Prefect," Hermione said, "I need to stay here, in case Professor McGonagall sends further instructions."

Dean narrowed his eyes. Harry could almost hear his objection from his posture: "That's not what she just said."

"Actually," Harry said, quietly, "I've been thinking."

"Right," Hermione muttered, her lips setting into a firm, McGonagall-ish line, "That doesn't bode well."

"What if they can't contact us?" Harry asked, "What if they need us and they have to waste time sending someone to get us?"

"Harry, Professor McGonagall said – "

"When have we ever followed the rules, Hermione?" Ron asked, his blue eyes never leaving Harry's. Harry had a feeling he knew what he was going to say. "Go on, Harry."

"Why don't we take the cloak –"

"No."

" – up to the Astronomy Tower – "

"No!"

"We're coming too!"

"No you're not!"

" – and see what's happening?"

"No!" Hermione repeated emphatically, "What if they do need us Harry, and we're stuck up in the Astronomy Tower?"

"But if You Know Who is looking for Harry," Ron argued, "Gryffindor's the first place he'll look!"

Several people squirmed uncomfortably at this idea, shooting Harry fleeting glances.

"Besides," Harry said, "Don't you want to know what's happening?"

"I would rather know that we're all safe!" Hermione replied.

"This is my home," Harry countered, his dander rising slightly, "Did you really think I was going to hide here like a good boy and not defend it?"

"Exactly," said Ginny, stepping forward, and nodding firmly, "Besides which, we're not going looking for trouble, Hermione. We just have a right to know what's happening."

"Oi!" Ron protested, indignantly, "Who says you're going?"

"I do," Ginny said, her ears turning red. Harry had never noticed her ears did that too.

"Right! And I'll just explain to Mum and Dad that I let you tag along, and when I have to bring you home in a shoe box – "

"I'm not tagging along with you," Ginny hissed, "You're tagging along with me, as I'm going regardless!"

"Well, who's idea was it in the first place?" Ron retorted.

"Harry's!"

"Stop fighting!" Harry shouted, "And no one is going home in a shoe box!"

Ron and Ginny looked away from each other, embarrassed. No one wanted to be fighting now, not really.

"If Ron and Hermione are going, we need some people to stay here, take care of Prefects' duties, and relay a message to us if we're needed."

"We'll do it," Seamus said, stepping forward with Dean. Parvati and Lavender stood from their chairs, "No problem."

"We'll keep watch, Harry," Katie Bell promised, standing from her spot on the sofa.

"And I'm going with you," Ginny said, severely, "No arguments."

"Fine," Harry agreed, reluctantly. He didn't want to put Ginny in danger, but there was something that had transpired after the Department of Mysteries last year – something that made him want Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna around him at a time like this.

"You know, we should ask Neville if he wants to come," Hermione said, as though reading his thoughts.

Ron scowled, "If he's hiding behind his bed hangings, I doubt he'd be interested."

"Ron, honestly! That's where we're all supposed to be…in fact, I still can't believe that we're –"

"And Luna," Ginny interrupted, "We should owl Luna. We'll send Pig through the hallways, so he isn't seen…"

"You do that," Harry said, "I'm going to go get the cloak. We won't all fit, of course, but we'll just have to make do. I'll ask Neville while I'm up there."

Harry took the stairs two at a time, his nerves jangling. Finally – after hours of inactivity, it was time to do something. Harry wasn't sure whether he was relieved or even more nervous.

The door swung open with a bang, and Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from behind the velvet hangings of Neville's bed.

"It's me, Neville," Harry said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Oh, err…hi," Neville replied. His voice was shrill. Harry frowned – Neville was his friend, and he certainly didn't want to misjudge him – but now was an awfully bad time to turn coward.

"We're going to the Astronomy Tower. It's almost time."

"Who…who exactly is going?" Neville asked.

Harry stifled a snort of impatience, fishing out his Invisibility Cloak, "You know who. All of us from the Department of Mysteries. Me, Ron, Hermione…you," he added pointedly.

"Err…I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't."

Harry blinked, "You can't?"

"I…I can't. Not now."

"Neville," Harry said, trying very hard to keep his temper, "We're going now, do you understand? We won't be coming back later."

"You might never see us again," he thought, but did not say.

"I know," Neville said. He sounded a bit calmer, but Harry still didn't understand what on earth his problem was. "I understand, Harry. But I just can't right now. Don't worry though, I promise I won't let you down."

"You already are," Harry thought viciously, but again, didn't voice his thoughts.

"Alright, Neville," Harry said, quietly, "We'll err…see you later."

"Good luck, Harry," Neville said, calmly, from behind the curtains.

Harry shook his head angrily, and closed the door behind him.

"Knew it," Ron scowled, as he saw Harry coming down the stairs alone, "Wanker. Ouch!"

He winced as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, quite hard.

"Something's up with him. I don't know," Harry said, as though pushing it aside. He heard a shrill hoot, and saw Pigwidgeon tugging a strand of Ginny's hair cheerfully. "Is Luna coming?"

"She owled that she'd meet us there," Ginny said, holding a scrap of parchment.

"What! Doesn't she know how dangerous it – "

"She's already left!" Ginny said, holding up the parchment, "We didn't want to owl back, because we didn't want to call attention to her! You know how she is!"

Harry sighed, "We'd better hurry then. Come on, get under."

"WOAH!" Dean exclaimed, as the four of them disappeared under the cloak, "So that's how you've been doing it!"

"This is rubbish," Ron said, angrily, "Look, it doesn't even cover our feet."

"Can't be helped," Harry said, trying to ignore the fact that Ginny was pressed up in front of him, "Err, why don't we – if you just – oh, hang it."

He wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist, trying to get closer to her.

"Now, Hermione, put your arm over Ginny's shoulder…good, and Ron, take one step back. Alright? Err, now everyone…sort of…crouch a bit."

"Ouch!" Hermione whispered.

"Sorry," Ron apologized, hastily.

"Well, I walk on them, you might as well too," Hermione quipped dryly.

"Everyone ready? Okay, right foot first…aaaaand, go."

It was possibly the most awkward thing Harry had ever done, trying to walk in unison with three other people. Harry heard Dean and Seamus stifling snickers over in the corner.

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, laugh," Ron muttered. Harry sensed rather than saw his neck going red.

"See you later," Harry said, more bravely than he felt.

"Good luck," Lavender said, for all of them.

They somehow managed to stumble through the portrait hole. For a moment, Harry looked at the Fat Lady over his shoulder.

"Are you quite sure that's a good idea?" she whispered quietly.

Harry didn't respond, but kept in time with the others. The Fat Lady sighed, and resumed her resting pose.

Ginny was trembling subtly under his arm. He squeezed gently, more to reassure her than anything else, but he sensed he was throwing off her gait, so he stopped. Hermione stifled the throat-clearing noise she made when she was nervous about an exam. Ginny's hair was in his nose, and their collective, nervous breath, however light, was making the inside of the cloak feel like a strange sauna.

As they passed nearer to the main gate, they could hear voices echoing down through the silent corridors.

"Didn' make it," came Hagrid's booming voice, sounding oddly quiet after rebounding and refracting down the stones, "Came outta nowhere…"

Harry squeezed Ginny sharply, and they ground to an awkward halt, the Cloak threatening to slip off and reveal them.

"Come on!" Hermione breathed, more than whispered.

There was indistinct muttering, and then Hagrid's voice again, in clearly audible sobs, echoing softly:

"Good man…good centaur, Firenze. It's on'y coz of 'im, we made i' at all…"

"No!" Ginny whispered, sounding distraught.

"Shh," Hermione breathed, but Harry had felt her gasp as the news as well.

They awkwardly began once more, Harry taking a few steps to match theirs again. After what seemed like a lifetime, they finally reached the top of the winding staircase to find Luna waiting for them, serenely.

"I can see your feet, Ronald," she said, calmly.

"What d'you mean starting off without us? And on your own?" Ron asked doggedly, as he and Harry lifted the cloak off together, "You could've been hurt!"

Luna shrugged, "I wasn't. Besides, if you'd come to collect me, you would have been going quite far out of your way, wouldn't you? Oh, and do keep your voice down."

"Why?" Harry whispered, who's here?"

"Just them," Luna said, jerking her head over the parapet.

Crouching down, Harry and the rest crawled up to the edge of the stone parapet. Harry put his head against the stone, and slowly craned over his left shoulder, leaning ever so slightly…

"Bugger."

There were two entire rows of them, ranging in a straight line before the castle, white masks hiding their faces and black robes obscuring their forms. Behind them stood four fully-grown giants, towering, hulking, one of them wearing a makeshift crown. If Harry had thought Grawp was impressive, he'd been sorely mistaken – Grawp scarcely came up past their shoulders. Three thestrals suddenly burst up out of the Forest, swooped, and landed once more – a chill ran down Harry's spine – surely there weren't MORE of them, hiding in the forest?

But that was not the worst of it – behind the giants, hovering eager and evil, their ratty black robes wafting in a nonexistent cool breeze, were Dementors…hundred of Dementors. Scabby, slimy hands treading air as though it were ice water, sending a chill down into his stomach.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered, urgently.

"Snap out of it!" Ron whispered.

Harry dropped back down.

"Hundreds of them," he muttered, his chest already feeling cold, "Get those happy thoughts ready."

They chuckled weakly, silently.

"What time is it?" Ginny asked, her voice sounding small.

"Two minutes til," Hermione whispered, "How many Death Eaters, Harry?"

"At least fifty," Harry said, his heart sinking.

"Fifty! But there weren't nearly that many at the Department of –

"It's been a year," Harry muttered, closing his eyes and cursing mentally, his head hitting the stone, "Between recruitment and the Imperius, they could get that many easily."

"So," Ron said, shifting his weight awkwardly. His eyes matched his skin, which was bluish in the moonlight – his freckles seemed purple. "So that means…there's people down there who are just…people? Like, normal people?"

Harry nodded.

"So, err…what do we do if –"

"Oh my goodness," Hermione whispered, shaken – Harry glanced over and saw her peeking over the ramparts, her bushy hair catching the moonlight, "They're huge."

"Alright, let's not panic," Ron said, sounding quite nervous himself.

"Where's Neville?" Luna asked, suddenly, some of the dreaminess having gone out of her voice, "You did invite him, didn't you?"

Ron chuffed quietly, and Hermione nudged him again.

"We asked," Harry said, vaguely, "err, 'invited' him. He didn't come."

"Or wouldn't," he added, mentally.

"Oh," Luna said, sounding relieved, "Well, I'm sure he had his reasons."

Ron snorted again, and tried to cover it by sniffling, to avoid another recriminatory elbow from Hermione.

"Hermione – time?" Ginny asked quietly, to Harry's left.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE," boomed a high, shrill voice. Everyone jumped – Hermione stifled a shriek, and even Luna's face had gone paler, and her eyes even wider (if that was possible).

There was the heavy creak of chains from below, and a warm square of yellow light spilled onto the silver-blue grounds of Hogwarts.

"Is he mad?" Ron goggled.

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore said, calmly. They could hear every word – he'd obviously used the same Sonorus spell, but was not shouting as Voldemort was.

"WHERE IS THE POTTER BOY?"

"I'm afraid you can't have him, Tom," Dumbledore said, sternly, as though chastising a wayward third year.

"THEN YOU DIE!"

"There are worse things than death, Tom," the Headmaster replied calmly, "But more importantly, I must tell you as Headmaster of Hogwarts that you can not enter here."

"CAN'T I?" Voldemort's shrill voice rang out. Harry heard, muted, the sound of screaming from within the castle – they must have heard him in the dormitories. He hoped that Dean, Seamus, and the rest were doing their best to retain order, "OR WILL I?"

"There are many ancient spells protecting this school, as well you know, Tom," Albus continued, reasonably, "And we are prepared to defend it. This is not a wise move."

"WE SHALL SEE!" he screeched, enraged. Harry felt a sharp burst of pain, and an irrational wave of fury, before it disappeared totally. He slapped a hand to his scar.

Heads jerked towards him anxiously.

"It's okay. He let it slip – he's really angry. But he pulled away again," Harry said, the memory of the sudden pain still making his eyes water slightly.

"BLOOD OF THE RIGHTEOUS!" came the cold screech. It was followed by a dull thump.

"What?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered, clapping her hand over her mouth.

Harry peered over the parapet again, and wished he hadn't.

Lying on the grass, in the warm yellow beam, were the already-decaying remains of what was unmistakably Madame Bones.

"BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT!"

Harry thought he was going to be ill.

"Oh," Ginny said, next to him, her voice sounding small again, "Oh…"

With great effort, six Death Eaters dragged forward another carcass – a four-legged one.

Firenze's legs flopped lifeless out of their hands, as they dropped him next to Madame Bones.

"I can't," Ron said gruffly, turning his back on the scene, and dropping to the stone floor. "I just – can't."

His face looked as it had in second year, just before he began vomiting slugs. Harry suddenly missed those days.

"BLOOD OF THE CASTER!"

Harry found he couldn't tear his eyes away. They dragged another lifeless, grizzled body, spattered with blood to the pile. Hermione gasped.

"Hermione, do you know him?" Harry asked, urgently.

"That's Aberforth!"

The name seemed to ring a bell with Harry, but he couldn't place it.

"The barkeep at the Hog's Head!" Ginny asked, incredulously.

"Yes!" Hermione hissed, her face pale, "That's Aberforth Dumbledore – Albus's brother. He was caretaker here before Argus Filch."

Harry suddenly recalled the photo Mad-Eye Moody had shown him…that was definitely him, lying dead, spread-eagled on the grass…the grass they walked over to get to Hagrid's hut, or the Quidditch pitch…it all seemed so unreal…

"And you didn't see fit to relay that bit of information?" Ron hissed, angrily.

"It's right there in Hogwarts, a History!" Hermione snapped, though she was babbling extremely rapidly out of nerves, "I've been telling you for ages to read it, and you never do, must have put some of the more recent wards on Hogwarts, or renewed them, or maybe it's just because he shares Dumbledore's blood, I'm not sure, it's very complicated blood magic, you don't even learn it until post-NEWT level, and besides, do you honestly expect a complete dossier of every stranger we happen across!"

"AND OF COURSE YOU KNOW, DUMBLEDORE," came Voldemort's high-pitched voice, heavy-laden with an arrogant sneer, "I ALREADY SHARE THE BLOOD OF THE PROTECTED – THE ONE YOU HOLD MOST DEAR, CLOSEST TO YOUR FRAIL, BLEEDING HEART LIKE A TRUMP CARD."

"I believe it is you, Tom," Albus said, coldly, "Who is so fond of playing games with other people's lives. If this is not the case, please prove me wrong and release those among you who are under the Imperius."

"WE ARE THE WILLING SERVANTS OF LORD VOLDEMORT!" came the ungodly, unsion chant of the masses gathered below, "THE DEATH EATERS ARE HUNGRY!" The giants began stomping, to emphasize the point, and to Harry's horror, the Dementors slowly elevated another three feet into the air.

"Lying," Harry muttered, trying to force himself to think of his first broom ride.

"What?"

"He's lying. Plenty of them are under the Imperius."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

He felt another brief twinge, which also ended abruptly.

"Why does he keep pushing me out?"

"Be thankful!" Ron hissed, urgently, "At least he doesn't know we're here!"

Suddenly, the ranks of white-masked Death Eaters parted, and out from their midst came Lord Voldemort, by far the tallest of the human ranks, wearing robes of brilliant scarlet, his red eyes burning through the night, set in his stark, pale face. He was surrounded by three other Death Eaters – one of them he could recognized with burning anger, by his silver hand – the other was a woman, definitely Bellatrix, and he'd stake any amount of Galleons that the one to his left was Malfoy.

"THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, YOU DODDERING FOOL" he hissed, smugly, "BRING ME THE POTTER BOY! OR HOGWARTS, AND EVERYONE IN IT, FALLS TONIGHT!"

"GO AN' BOIL YER 'EAD!" came Hagrid's roar from below, and the square of yellow light vanished with a loud SLAM!

There was a deep, tolling boom which caused them all to clap their hands over their ears – the bells were tolling midnight.

"DEATH EATERS!" screeched Lord Voldemort.

"Oh, bugger," Ron muttered, getting into a crouch, and peering over the edge of the parapet. Harry could hear his friends' breathing, clearly, as though they were breathing inside his skull.

Voldemort put one foot on top of the pile of bodies, and there was an enormous CRACK! that seemed to rend the very air, and blew Harry's hair back.

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLL!"