The scene in front of him more closely resembled a zoo gone mad than anything else Harry could think of off the top of his head. Animals twined around each other happily, screeching or howling, yelping or purring, according to their various natures. Some of them he had seen before – the lion, for instance, and the wolf playfully worrying at one of the lion's front paws. He also recognized the black dog, though he had never seen the similarly colored horse it seemed to be playing tag with, dodging sweeps of the creature's huge wings.

Others were less familiar. He had no idea what, or who, the hawk sitting on a perch could represent, though he was intrigued by the calico cat crouched below the perch, attempting to stare the hawk down. On another, lower, perch nearby sat a white owl, which was grooming the head-fur of a white fox with beak and talons. A doe deer galloped around the whole group, with something Harry couldn't quite make out on her back, something silvery which seemed to shimmer in and out of sight.

Movement off to one side, away from the main group, caught his eye. A large, reddish wildcat was staring at him, the first sign he'd seen that any of the animals knew he was there. Its brown eyes seemed to bore into him, demanding something, though he had no idea what. Its short, black-tipped tail stuck straight out behind it, and its tufted ears were laid back as it bared its teeth and hissed.

Something whined beside him. Harry turned to look.

In a cage so small that it could barely move lay a dark-furred wolf. It stared longingly first at the tangle of animals, then at the wildcat, which gave a low yowl as if responding to the look. Finally, the wolf turned its eyes to Harry.

They were the same bright green Harry saw every time he looked in the mirror. And as the wolf shifted a little closer to him, Harry saw a thin line of white fur on its forehead, above and between its eyes, a line shaped like a lightning bolt.

The wolf's disturbing eyes were fixed now not on Harry's face, but on something he held in his hands – a key, he saw as he looked down, he was holding a key, a key which looked like it would fit the lock on the cage which held the wolf. And all the other animals had stopped playing, and were staring at him in their turn, challenging him with their eyes.

What am I supposed to do?

A rapping sound made him jump, and as he did, everything vanished – animals, wolf, cage, everything –

He was slumped over a small hill of loose mattress padding in the middle of his bed. His room was covered with stuffing and feathers, and someone was knocking on his door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Emmeline."

Harry swore under his breath. There was no way he could get the room cleaned up in anything under an hour. He'd just have to face the music. "Er, come in."

"Can you open the door? I have my hands full."

"All right." Harry climbed stiffly out of the hole in the mattress he'd been sitting in and opened the door for her.

Emmeline looked around the room for a moment before coming in. In her hands, she held a breakfast tray, loaded with several of Harry's favorite foods, and he suddenly realized he'd missed a meal. "You really did a job on this place, didn't you?" she asked, her mouth twitching a little to one side.

Harry brushed stuffing and feathers off his desk, giving her a place to set the tray, and didn't answer. He didn't know quite what he'd say if he did.

"Eat," said Emmeline sternly, pointing at the food. "You're no good to anyone hungry." She took a steaming mug off the tray. "This is mine. The rest is for you."

Harry picked up the tray himself and sat down on the floor with it, resting his back against the desk. Emmeline took the chair Hermione had cleared and sipped at her drink, looking at him every so often without staring or sneaking glances. Harry got the impression that she would listen to anything he might have to say, but that she didn't want to pry.

He could talk to her, he knew. She would listen and not judge, and then give him the best advice she could. And she was his Occlumency teacher. She needed to know about anything which might be a sign of Voldemort trying to get into his mind.

He swallowed a mouthful of eggs. "I had a dream," he said, picking up his glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't know if it was related to Voldemort or not, but it was strange."

"Strange how?"

Harry explained between bites about the animals playing, the wildcat and the wolf, and his sense that they had all wanted him to do something.

Emmeline frowned, looking thoughtful. "Harry, I think I might be able to explain this, but you may not like it. It's not related to Voldemort, at least not directly, and it is related to our guests. Will you listen and hear me out?"

A little reluctantly, Harry nodded.

"The descriptions you're giving sound very like what Draco and Aletha have been telling me about their family and friends when they're at home. The types of animals, their playing together, everything makes sense. Including the caged wolf. From the way you described his eyes and the marking on his forehead, I think you know who he is."

Harry scowled at his toast. "He's me," he said. "Another me."

"You sound angry."

"Wouldn't you be?" Harry looked at her, trying to make her understand. "He's in my head! He just... moved in, without asking me, without giving me a chance to fight back, and I've been having nightmares that have to be his – it's like he's possessing me, and I don't have a chance against him, because he's so much like me that I can't fight him! But if I don't fight him, I'll turn into him – thinking Malfoy's my brother, and Merlin knows what else!"

Emmeline made a soft noise of understanding. "You have the wrong end of the wand, Harry," she said. "You're not turning into him. He's turning into you."

"What?"

"You're the native to this world. You belong here. Because of that, you have the advantage. I understand where you might have gotten the wrong idea from what happened to Draco, but Draco Black is much stronger mentally and emotionally than Draco Malfoy. That's not the case with you. I would imagine that you and your counterpart – we've been calling him Wolf, to differentiate between the two of you – are almost evenly matched. But he's a visitor, an unwilling guest in your head. So your mind treats him as an intruder, and tries to make him conform."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that – without meaning to do it, without even knowing that you're doing it – you are destroying him." Emmeline's voice was not accusing, simply stating facts. "You know the truths of this world so strongly that you can deny the truths of his, force them to become dreams or fantasies or simply be forgotten altogether, because your mind knows that in this world, his truths are very dangerous."

"Like Malfoy, or whatever his name is, being my brother?"

"Exactly. Harry, no one blames you for this. You had no idea it was going on, and no way to stop it even if you did. Not by yourself. But with help, you might be able to stop it. You might even be able to reverse it, and bring Wolf out of your mind altogether, the way Remus and Sirius and Hermione were separated from their counterparts. I'm sure he wants to leave as much as you want him to leave."

Harry crumbled a crust of toast between his fingers. "What would I have to do?"

"If I understand correctly, all you have to do is go to sleep."

"Go to sleep?"

"Danger – the wolf – has magic that works through dreams. She was responsible for separating Remus from his counterpart – we're calling him Moony – and for helping to keep Hermione and hers, Neenie, separate until they could find a body for Neenie to use."

"The cat?"

"Exactly. If she can find Wolf within your mind and separate him from you, we can find a wolf's body for him to inhabit until they go home, so that you two don't get mixed up again."

Harry crushed the rest of the toast in his palm. "I... don't like people digging through my mind," he confessed. "I don't mind it with you, because I know you. I know you won't go looking for stuff, and if you find it it's by accident. But I don't know her. I don't know what she'd want to do or see."

Emmeline smiled with a trace of sadness. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Harry. Will you trust me enough to believe me?"

Harry felt a slight rush of mischief. "Depends on what you say."

Emmeline chuckled. "All right. I say that Danger and I have a lot in common, and that you can trust her the way you would trust me. She will look at only those memories of yours that she absolutely must, and she will tell no one what she sees. It's true that she cares very much about her own Harry, her Wolf, but she also cares about you."

Harry fought back a blush at the delicately worded refutation of part of what he'd yelled at Hermione. "All right," he said finally. "When does she want to do it?"

"As soon as possible. Are you finished?"

Harry looked down at the remains of his breakfast. "Yeah."

"All right. I would have suggested doing it in here, since this is your room and you're likely to be comfortable here, but if we want to get it done quickly, the living room might be better." Since you've trashed this place pretty thoroughly, she seemed to be saying silently, but with only a mild and tolerant scolding implicit in her tone.

"Okay." Harry stood up, lifting the tray with him. "Living room it is."

"I agreed to her," said the boy on the couch disdainfully, looking at Draco. "Not to him."

Draco bit down hard on his lip, trying to keep hold of his fraying temper. He's not the Harry I know, he reminded himself carefully. No matter how much he looks like him, he's not the Harry I know. He's not turning on me, not betraying me, he's acting perfectly normally for his world. Getting mad at him won't help anything.

"Danger can't talk in this form," he said aloud. "But I can hear her mind-to-mind when we're in contact. So I can tell you if she needs you to do anything."

"Couldn't she just talk to me directly?" Harry wanted to know.

Draco looked down at Danger. I really don't want to get into this, he told her silently. It's none of his business...

So just tell him "no", Fox. But do it politely, please. His rudeness is no excuse for yours.

Draco shook his head. "Sorry, it wouldn't work. It has to be me."

Harry sighed. "Fine, then. What does she want me to do?"

"For starters, you could try talking to her," said Draco a little more sharply than he'd intended. "She's only mute, not deaf."

"Well, excuuuuuuuse me."

"You sound like Malfoy," muttered Draco before he could stop himself.

Harry's eyes widened. "I do not!"

"Yeah, you do. I've been listening to him for days, and you really do."

"I don't have to put up with this!" Harry jumped up. "I'm out of here!" He ran down the hallway to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him again.

Draco groaned and hid his face in his hands.

A cold nose contacted the side of his leg. Are we familiar with the phrase "counter-productive"? Danger asked, in a tone which suggested she would have been a lot more amused had the situation not been so serious. I certainly hope you don't act up like this on a field mission, or we're taking you off that roster, effective immediately.

I'm sorry... but he did!

You think Potter sounds like me? said a new voice. I'm insulted.

Oh, grand. Draco sat down on the couch, keeping his hand on Danger's neck so as not to break their connection. I managed both to offend everyone involved here, and to make our situation worse. Is there any other way I can screw up?

You may not have done as much damage as you think, Fox. Danger leapt lightly up to the couch beside him, laying her front half in his lap. Even with his permission to enter his mind, I might not have been able to do anything. The assimilation is already very advanced, because it's had so much time to work, and because the two of them were so alike to begin with. Also, I don't have a soul-bond with Harry like I do with Remus, or a blood-bond like with Hermione, so if he's far enough gone, he might not even recognize my call.

Do any of us have that kind of bond with him? Draco thought it over, and came to a conclusion that made him shiver. We don't. He's no blood to any of us, and none of us cubs have soul-bonded yet...

And even if he had, that wouldn't do us any good, because she's not here. Danger sighed gustily. I'll be honest with you, Draco love. This isn't looking good. The only thing I can think of at this point is that maybe, if we can get the barrier down between the worlds, our Wolf would be so attracted to home that he would be able to free himself.

Home...

The word hung in the air between them, so desirable Draco could almost see it. The Den, the Burrow, the Landing Zone, and Fireflower House, and the area around them, where the Pride trained in the summers, learning what they needed to keep themselves alive, and having some fun along the way. Hogwarts, standing proud and tall despite the threat of Voldemort, offering shelter and learning to all who entered there, and nearly endless opportunities for pranks and games.

And not just the places of home, but the people. The Pack was all here, but he was not just Pack, he was Pride too, and half of the Pride had been left behind. Not that he would have wanted them here – Ron, in particular, would have taken this very badly. He liked Ron a lot, but it was a fact that the red-haired boy didn't handle surprises or unfamiliar situations well.

Nothing wrong with that, in general. He can learn to deal, to some extent – he has learned, he's a lot better than he used to be – and everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. I could never plan a fight, or a game of chess, the way he can. Many talents, one goal.

And Luna. Draco stopped for a moment, as he always did, to think about his incredible luck in knowing her. She was the kindest, most accepting, most generous soul alive, and for some incomprehensible reason, she liked him, possibly even as much as he liked her. As he had told Malfoy, the two of them had, somewhere along the way, grown into the knowledge that a mating between them would be desirable to both, and would someday happen, as surely as the seasons turned.

But as soon as we get home, I'm asking her formally,Draco decided. Something like this could happen again, to either of us or both. I want us at least to be sworn to each other, if not fully mated – we're neither of us ready for that yet.

Cutting off your options awfully young, aren't you? Malfoy commented. Has it ever occurred to you that you might meet someone else?

Draco sighed. Pride/out-Pride relationships don't work so well. It's been tried. Friendships, of course, we all have out-Pride friends, but romance... not so much.

Do tell.

It's not my story. Draco hoped Malfoy would take a hint from his flat tone and quit asking.

All right, fine. The other boy sounded grouchy, but resigned. So if you're not supposed to date outside your Pride, who's everybody else matched up with?

Draco smiled and projected an image of the four mate-pairings within the Pride, all of which had been obvious to everyone, except, in some cases, the males involved, for several years.

Malfoy made a noise which equated to a mental eye-roll. Why am I not surprised?

Because some things never change?

There was no answer.

After a little while, Draco went into the kitchen to report that Danger had been unable to enter Harry's mind deeply enough to search for Wolf. This, while not strictly true, would salve Harry's pride, as well as allowing him the time needed to calm down. Danger could not enter the dreams of a mind not bonded to her if it was actively resisting her. Time might be vital, but they would gain nothing by trying to force Harry to help them.

Heads nodded around the room when he told his tale, as though it were nothing more than they'd expected. "We're going to try working it from the other end," said Remus. "Go north to the place where you came through, and try to hold the barrier open for a little while. If we can send some of you home, that might slow the degradation of the magic."

"But we won't have bodies on the other side," said Draco in confusion. "Will we?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Part of my contact with my counterpart involved that very question," he said. "Your friends have not been idle. Using some of their... unique... magic, certain of them have prepared living bodies, with no souls, human or animal, currently resident. If your minds and souls, as well as some of the residue of your previous bodies, can cross the threshold between worlds, it is likely you will be drawn to these bodies, and be able to reside in them as you did in your original ones."

Draco frowned. Living bodies, with no souls? How is that possible?

Neenie rubbed against his leg, giving him an image as she did of Fireflower House and its occupants, and Draco suddenly understood. Of course. I should have thought of that. Good old Shade...

"As many of us as can go, should," said Aletha. "We don't know how far magic has already degraded here, or how many people will be needed to open the barrier or hold the opening. We do know it will take a fair number to hold the shields around the area, to keep the breakdown from worsening. So we're taking just about everyone who can do magic."

"And that means I get to stay behind," said Sirius, sounding slightly bitter but resigned. "The nominal adult, in case Harry needs anything. Are you sure it wouldn't be a good idea to take him along?" he asked Dumbledore.

"If I understand the patterns of this magic correctly, we must have his willing participation for this to work," replied the Headmaster. "And he has been, so far, singularly unwilling. Understandably so, but still, forcing him to accompany us and face unknown magic, of unknown proportions, is hardly the best of moves at this time."

Sirius sighed. "You're right," he said. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

And I don't.

In fact, I hate it.

I hate this whole bloody mess.

The house was quieter than it had been all day. Everyone, except for Sirius and Harry, had gone north to Hogsmeade, to the place where the Pack (cute name, and fitting, since so many of their forms are canine) had been pushed into this world.

Well, I don't hate one thing. I'm actually a little glad about magic starting to break down... because if it hadn't...

Sirius decided to allow himself one wallow in fear and disgust. Watching Wormtail receive the Dementor's Kiss was still one of the worst memories of his life, and he had no wish whatsoever to find out what that felt like on his own account. He also had no illusions that having his soul cursed out would be any less painful and horrific than having it sucked out.

And if I'm going to be totally honest, I'm a little selfishly glad that everyone else gets a taste of what it feels like to know that magic won't answer reliably to them anymore. This is one of the worst things that's ever happened to me – I'm almost completely useless now...

Hold it, there, Sirius. Enough with the self-pity. Time for an honest assessment.

He stood up and walked over to the mirror hanging on his bedroom wall, taking a good look at himself. A man in his mid-thirties, dark-haired, grey-eyed, not unattractive, and in good condition – Aurors had to stay in shape, able to duck and dodge, since not all spells could be blocked. Physically, he was perfectly healthy, and if the Healers hadn't been optimistic about him regaining his magic, at least they hadn't been pessimistic.

And it could be a hell of a lot worse. I could be the one using an animal's body, locked out of my own world, with no sure way to get home, and worried sick that my Harry was going to die...

The door of his room swung open. Sirius turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes on the carpet. "Hey, Harry," he said conversationally. "What's going on?"

There was no answer. Sirius frowned. "Harry, are you all right?"

Slowly, Harry raised his head and looked directly at his godfather.

Sirius blanched, his breath catching in his throat. Deep within those green eyes, he had just seen a tinge of red.

Oh, Merlin, no...

"Sirius Black," said Harry in a voice that wasn't his, but that Sirius knew all too well. "I tire of your interference with my plans. Even without your magic, you are still a threat..." Slowly, jerkily, Harry's right arm came up, pointing his wand at Sirius.

"Harry, don't," Sirius whispered, praying his words could penetrate to his godson. "Harry, fight this – fight him – I know you can – you have to..."

"Good night, Mr. Black," said that chilling voice, as Harry's lips stretched in a rictus grin. Sirius couldn't move, this was too like his nightmares come true – he couldn't dodge, couldn't do anything, he was going to die, here and now –

"Avada Kedavra!"

In the same instant the spell left his wand, Harry jerked his arm ever so slightly to one side, and the green bolt of magic missed Sirius by an inch, striking the mirror instead. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces – the spell was reflected, turning back at its caster –

"NO!"

Sirius heard his own anguished cry, saw Harry's eyes widen, in fear, in satisfaction, in astonishment, he couldn't tell, as the green light struck his chest –

His paralysis gone, Sirius hurdled his bed, falling to his knees beside Harry's body –

"Freeze, Black," said another familiar, and thoroughly unwelcome, voice.

"You," growled Sirius, turning his head to face the speaker. "You bastard. Going to have another go at getting my soul, are you?"

Lucius Malfoy smiled pitilessly. "Oh, I think so. Not that you don't deserve it – I have reliable information that you and Lupin have been sheltering a certain runaway. Clever of him, to fake madness as a way of getting out of his initiation."

"How do you know it was fake?"

Malfoy raised a supercilious eyebrow. "I severely doubt a madman could have concocted such a cunning plan as freeing the house-elf, knowing that the wards it placed around his room would be gone once it left. I would be proud of his ingenuity, were it not that his actions have made it obvious where his true loyalties lie. But no matter. Once I have him safely back in my power, he can be... gently disabused of these foolish notions."

"You're going to Obliviate him, you mean," Sirius challenged. "Or put him under Imperius, until he's a perfect little copy of you."

Malfoy's smile widened. "Perhaps... perhaps. If it strikes me as proper. But I should finish with you first. The Dark Lord was reluctant to allow me to accompany him on this mission, but I persuaded him that Potter might be more resilient than he knew. I hope you were proud of your godson while he lived, Black – such a noble character as his, to save you even at the expense of his own life..."

Red rage clouded Sirius' vision, an invisible hand gripped his throat, hot fury rushed through him. Without listening to another word, he was on his feet, charging down the hall.

If he was going to go, he was bloody well going to take Malfoy with him. Or as much of him as he could.

He had only time to note the expression of shock on Malfoy's face before he knocked him over and started inflicting pain as many different ways as he could manage. Malfoy tried to get his wand into play, but Sirius grabbed the end of it and forced it out of the way with one hand, punching Malfoy repeatedly in the face with the other.

I can't let go. That was the only rational thought he could hold onto. I can't let go his wand. If I do, he'll have me. I can't let go.

They scrabbled on the floor for a few more moments, until Malfoy landed a lucky punch that knocked Sirius backwards and dived onto him, kneeling on his arms and pressing his wand against Sirius' chest.

"Revenge is sweet, Black," he hissed, spitting blood onto the floor. "Extraho Anim – AAARRRRGGGGGHHH!" The final sound was a scream of pain – caused, as Sirius saw in his last moment of clarity, by something small and white, which had just bitten Malfoy on his left wrist.

Then everything was white light and rushing sound, and a feeling of something dragging at him, trying to pull him apart –

No. You can't have me. He dug his heels in and resisted. No, no, no, no, I am NOT going down without a fight!

Inch by inch, he fought whatever was pulling on him, pulling back on it with all his strength, until, with a tangible snap, it parted somewhere beyond his reach, and recoiled on him, hurling him backwards to crash against the wall.

The last thing he saw, before darkness claimed him, was Malfoy lying unconscious nearby, and the last thing he heard was the anxious chittering of some kind of small animal.

Harry had tried to fight. Truly, he had. But Voldemort had laughed – that awful, shrill, blood-chilling sound – and pushed aside his Occlumency barriers as if they were nothing, or perhaps he had gone around them in some way Harry didn't know how to fight. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he was about to kill Sirius, and there wasn't anything Harry could do about it – he had to watch, a helpless prisoner in his own body –

Until, at the very instant his voice finished the spell, Voldemort's bonds on him suddenly weakened slightly. Just slightly – but enough that Harry could jerk his hand to one side, enough that the spell missed Sirius – but it was coming back at him, and he couldn't move, he couldn't dodge – it hit him square in the chest –

Snarls and curses struck his ears. Harry blinked and looked around.

He stood on a flat, black plain, with nothing in any direction, except directly in front of him. Not five feet away, Lord Voldemort wrestled fiercely with a dark-furred wolf, trying to keep its jaws from his throat. As Harry watched, Voldemort struck the wolf hard between the ears with his fist, so that it collapsed with a whine, then brought his wand around and blasted it with a curse so hard that it skidded ten feet along the floor.

Almost without conscious thought, Harry leapt off the ground and changed forms. Tiny and golden, he flew at Voldemort, whirring around him, pecking at his eyes. He might not be able to do much damage, but if he didn't do something, that wolf was going to die –

Voldemort's spell hit him this time, knocking him out of the air and out of Snidget form. He hit the ground hard, winding himself so badly that he couldn't even yell in pain. He heard Voldemort approaching –

Heard a spell shouted in a voice that was decidedly not Voldemort's –

Heard the Dark Lord turn to meet it, and the sounds of a magical battle in progress –

Harry levered himself painfully up to get a look at the duel, just as Voldemort's Cruciatus curse broke his opponent's shield and struck home –

Harry drew his own wand. "Stupefy!" he shouted, aiming for Voldemort, and though the Dark Lord blocked it, that meant he had to stop cursing the other boy, who was now on the floor panting –

It's him. The other Harry. That's the only person he can be, he looks just like me, and he was a wolf –

The other boy looked up. Green eyes met green.

Duck!

Harry dropped to the floor, hearing a curse pass over his head. Any ideas? he asked, sending another curse back at Voldemort and rolling out of the way of the return salvo.

Just one. Can we throw him out if we work together?

It's worth a try. How do you think we should start?

We should probably be touching... look out!

Harry couldn't dodge in time – the Cruciatus hit him now, and he screamed, arching his back in pain – he was being eaten alive, stabbed with a thousand knives, crushed by falling rocks –

The pain was gone, but he was in no shape to move –

It's move or die.

He moved, gritting his teeth and getting agonizingly to his feet. The other Harry – Wolf – had Voldemort's attention now, but for how long?

Ready? he asked.

Whenever you are.

All right – now! Harry cast an Incendio off to one side, pulling Voldemort's attention for a fraction of a second, and used that time to get to Wolf's side. Their hands clasped.

It was like an electric shock, only less painful and more invigorating. They seemed almost to have more magic together than they did separately, if that were possible –

Wall, said Wolf, conjuring one, of transparent energy, with them inside it and Voldemort out.

No, sphere, Harry corrected, putting a roof and a floor on the enclosure and smoothing the edges. We can't let him in anywhere.

I would have thought of that eventually, said his counterpart with good humor. Ready to push?

I think so. Harry stared at Voldemort, who stared back. On my mark?

It's your body.

All right. Ready, steady, GO.

Together, they pushed the boundary of their magical wall outward, shoving Voldemort back as they did. The Dark Lord retreated, step by step, looking wary but not overly concerned.

Do you think he knows something? Harry asked.

He always seems to know something. Wolf's voice sounded weary. We need a trick. Something he doesn't know about, or can't counter. He can counter straight magic. We have to add something to it.

The "power the Dark Lord knows not"?

Oh, you too, eh?

Me too. Damn prophecy. Do you have any idea what it is?

There's been speculation. Let me try something. Come with me?

Sure.

Wolf moved a pace or two forward, taking him to the edge of their magical wall, and Harry followed, never letting go his counterpart's hand. Wolf laid his free hand on the wall and closed his eyes. Harry did the same, and saw on the insides of his eyelids a small, comfortable room, filled with people Harry knew – Ron and Hermione, Luna and Neville, Meghan Freeman and Draco Black, as it must be for him to be in this company –

And Ginny. Harry could feel the emotion coursing through Wolf at the sight of her. A little unsettled by this, he opened his eyes – and saw Voldemort. The Dark Lord actually looked uncomfortable, and he backed up farther from the two boys as Wolf's feelings mounted, higher and higher –

Love, said Harry in sudden certainty. It's love, isn't it?

That's what we think.

I can do love. Harry grinned, placed his own free hand on the magical shield, and thought hard about everyone he cared about, and everyone who cared about him.

Sirius and Remus, who had guarded him and cherished him from the moment they took him from the Dursleys. Ron and his brothers, who had been the best friends anyone could want, besides being thrilled to take part in all sorts of pranks. Hermione, an infallible source of information, able and willing to answer any question a confused friend might ask.

And Ginny. The most beautiful, most talented, most willful, most lovable witch he could imagine, who had waited amazingly patiently for him to get his head out of his arse and notice her. Now that he had, he wanted to do more than notice her – he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to...

Careful. We need love, not lust.

Oh, shut up. But Harry scaled back his thoughts about Ginny to the kind he'd be willing to tell her parents about. His intentions, after all, were honorable. He'd be only too happy to marry her, once they were both old enough, and if she didn't change her mind. He didn't think he would.

The combined emotions of both boys were coloring the shield a warm red, and Voldemort had retreated so far he was barely visible. Harry and Wolf ramped up their efforts, bringing up every happy memory either of them could think of, neither allowing fear or doubt any leeway, and with a sound like a far-off Apparition, the Dark Lord was gone.

(A/N: So you can all stop panicking now...

I love Neurotica, for writing so neatly into my storyline without even meaning to! She is a rocking author, and I cannot wait until Altercations goes up!

Not a terribly large amount left, just a few little clean-up jobs that will probably fit in two chapters, tops, and another AU is finito. And then, maybe, just maybe, I'll get started on that little thing called "Dealing with Danger", and clear up the mysteries I left at the end of "Living without". Wouldn't you all like that? And won't you tell me how much, by clicking on that pretty purple button?)