Author's Note: *Obligatory Denial of Ownership.* I can imagine the beginning of this chapter is going to leave many of you torn, but I hope you're willing to bear with me on the explanation I'll be giving in-story.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Battling Against Destruction

Red. Everything was just red. Blindingly, unrelentingly crimson in the worst of ways. This was not a red light, no, Luna just couldn't block out the blood, which seemed to stain everything, including her vision. She could see past it of course, but she didn't WANT to!

Luna had already seen this, many times in fact, and she hated it. Before this awful, confusing vision, she had never seen this odd room. There were so many faces she didn't recognize, but she did know the faces of her classmates, her friends. She knew the face of the person cradled in Harry's arms, their blood a cascading waterfall of crimson that wouldn't ebb it's flow, no matter how much Harry begged and pleaded his friend that they not surrender to death's cold embrace. She also knew the form that hovered just behind Harry, the shadowy robed figure extending a singular boney hand above his claim. "...Your time has come…"

"No!" Luna recoiled from the vision. "I've seen this! I know this is coming!" She shouted, though no one noticed her. They never did. She was less real than they were at this point. "Please! I don't want to see this anymore! Take it! Take this curse from me! Please!" She pleaded, falling to her knees and slamming her fists against the blood-soaked ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

She didn't even flinch as Harry roared and the murderer's severed hand hit the bloody floor with a muffled splash. "You won't take her from me too," Harry's voice echoed, as frigid as the body he still clung to him with his wandless hand, and the now one-handed monster was aflame, screams ringing in Luna's ears.

Our Innocence Shall be Drowned in The Blood of Sacrifice…

The words bled through her mind and heart, carved into her psyche, an inescapable prophecy she could not refuse or prevent. And even as she shot upwards in bed, releasing a blood curdling scream she couldn't suppress, she knew there would be no relief, no freedom from this terrible future event she knew was coming. Her face was already wet from tears that began before she woke up, and her body quaked worse than it ever had before.

Neville crashed through the door, stumbling and tripping over the rug between the door and bed, though he did succeed in staying on his feet. "Luna, are you alright?" He asked.

She wanted to reassure him, pacify him with the half-truth that she had simply had a nightmare, but she couldn't speak, her sobs had turned violent, ripping through her without mercy. All she could do was hold her arms out to him, begging to be held.

Neville obliged her on instinct, climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He stroked his fingers down her back in an effort to comfort and soothe her, eager to do something, anything to help Luna. Luna was grateful for the safety of his arms and the comfort of his fingers, and though she took no comfort in his whispered assurances that everything would be alright, it meant everything to her that he wanted to reassure her.

It seemed to go on forever, but Neville didn't waver, not for a moment, and by the time the sobs died and her breathing evened back out, Luna felt nothing more than love for the wonderful boy holding her so closely, and a steady, hollow ache that she knew wouldn't dissipate for a long time.

Neville gave Luna a moment once she was finally calm, before he kissed her forehead and sighed. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me what's troubling you," he said softly. "I know you won't tell me, and I'd rather support you than add to your struggles," he explained. "All I ask is that you don't shut me out."

Luna nodded her head against his chest and gripped his arms tightly as he began to slowly pull back, stopping him in his tracks. "I want to tell you, Nev," She told him, her throat protesting against the strain. "I want to tell you so badly it hurts, but I can't," she met Neville's confused eyes with her own steady self loathing. "Even if I were willing to pay the price, I don't know enough to try and stop it. I only know the moment that's coming. I've seen nothing that leads to it," she admitted, and took hold of Neville's hands, willing him to understand.

"What price?" He whispered, and Luna shuddered, loathing the chill in his voice.

Her own voice shook as she answered him. "Stealing from death… it never ends well, Neville," she told him simply, thinking back to the story she knew by heart, the Tale of the Three Brothers. The consequences, the bloody path the wand had carved through history, the shadows the stone summoned that haunted the user until they submitted themselves to death.

Neville wilted, understanding. "Someone's marked for Death." Luna nodded, fresh tears pricking her eyes. "Is it me?" He asked.

"No!" She answered him, willing him to see the truth in her eyes and heart, that she wasn't lying. "No Neville, it isn't you, I swear. But I can't tell you anything else."

Neville nodded and sighed. "I wish you could… but I understand." He pulled Luna back into his arms. "I'll keep what you shared with me to myself, I promise."

Luna clung to Neville. "I love you," she told him.

In the shattered Weasley Household, Ron wasn't sure how he was managing to remain calm, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Charlie had woken the house in the middle of the night, explaining that their father had been attacked while on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix, and that Bill would send word when it was safe for them to come see him. Fred and George's immediate response was to scream themselves hoarse at Charlie, first for not telling them about the mission, then for not being included in some way, insisting that because they were of age they had every right to help. Their final topic of argument was that they should already be by their father's side and they were willing to keep waiting.

Throughout most of the screaming, Charlie remained calm and countered each of their arguments, but the moment the twins insisted they were going to St. Mungos, he silenced them both and shoved them backwards on the couch. "Enough!" He shouted. "You'll sit there and wait or I'll chain you to the bloody wall!" He added, and both twins shrank in defeat. "I know you hate this. I do too. But we have to be patient. This is war, and you'd better grow up quickly if you want to join the fight. Am I clear?" He asked, finally calm again.

Both twins reluctantly nodded their heads and remained silent. While they had been arguing, Ron had been standing off to the side, holding on to Ginny as she clung to him and wept. This was of course why he couldn't waver, why he had to stay strong. Ginny needed someone to lean on, and Ron had to take on that role.

It was agony waiting to finally see their father. All the fight had left the twins, and they spent the rest of their time waiting seated, not speaking at all. Ginny eventually stopped crying, but she held on to Ron, who offered no argument, willing to be the stability his sister needed until she didn't need it anymore. Charlie paced the floor, much like a caged lion, uncomfortable and impatient, but bound regardless by his limitations.

The signal didn't come until the Sun was rising, and when they made it to St. Mungos, Arthur Weasley was in a magically induced sleep that would wear off in time as he continued healing. Bill explained that their father was finally stable and the Healers were certain he would survive, but his recovery would take time and wouldn't be easy. The Weasley children gathered around Arthur's bed, and Ron took hold of one of his hands. "I love you dad," he said, and finally broke down, his knees hitting the floor as his shoulders shook and tears rolled down his face. All they could do now was wait for him to wake back up.

James Potter knocked on Griphook's office door a third time, his patience waning. The goblin finally opened his door and glared. "I was not expecting you today, Potter," He grumbled. "And I was under the impression that rising from the grave had not cost you your considerable manners," he added.

"I apologize for the lack of warning but this is a genuine emergency and as my dear friend, I hope you can forgive me," James explained.

Griphook looked James up and down, taking note of his singed robes, the red rims of his eyes, and nodded. "Forgiveness granted, now hurry in and explain," Griphook said and stepped to the side so that James could walk by.

"Your office is sound-proofed?" James asked, needing to confirm.

"As always, Potter," Griphook assured him grumpily, rolling his eyes as he shut his door. "And yes, I'll lock the door and try not to be offended," he added, locking his door as promised.

"I'd hope so as no offense was intended," James mentioned and took a seat. "Voldemort made himself several horcruxes. How familiar are you with creations of that nature?" He asked, pleased to see the disgust on Griphook's face.

"Familiar enough to condemn anyone who'd dare to dabble with such abominations," he answered, his voice chipped from an iceberg. "How did you come to learn that he did this? And how can you be sure it's true?"

"I can't reveal my source, but even if they were untrustworthy, I also have proof. I destroyed one last night, another is being held in my current home… and…" he stumbled, not wanting to voice the truth a second time. "And my son… I don't know how but his connection with the horcrux I destroyed last night has made it impossible to deny that he himself is a horcrux, though he is unaware of it."

Griphook's eyes widened. "Describe the connection." James explained what Harry witnessed, and how he saw it, along with the significance of the snake and Harry feeling the snake's pain as his own. "I wish I could call you paranoid, but you are correct. At the very least though, I can hopefully put your mind at ease."

"Do you mean there's a way to destroy the horcrux attached to him without killing my son?" James asked, daring to hope.

Griphook nodded. "It won't be pleasant. The process would subject your son to agony that would rival the cruciatus curse, and he would need at least a month to recover from the process, if not longer. But yes, he would survive it, and will likely be stronger without a shard of that monster's soul living in him."

"H-How long would Harry be subjected to that much pain?" James asked, his voice shaking.

Griphook softened a touch. "An hour. But there won't be any long-term effects, I can promise you that. And once it's over we will take care of him."

James didn't feel the tears that rolled down his face as he thanked Griphook. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Griphook. And don't worry, I'll happily pay whatever price you name in exchange for saving my son," James promised. "He and Lily mean everything to me, I'd give anything-"

"You'll do no such thing, James Potter," Griphook interrupted. "I'll purge the horcrux from your son's body and soul for no charge whatsoever," he explained. "Call it a gift to an old friend." His eerie, almost shark-like smile warmed James' heart. "But I'll happily accept payment for purifying the rest of the horcruxes."

James quirked an eyebrow. "But I didn't ask you to handle the rest of them. My plan was simply to destroy them. Harry was my only intended exception."

Griphook scoffed. "Wizards. Always so quick to destroy. What happens if these objects turn out to be important relics? Can you live with yourself depriving the rest of the world of their potential value?"

"Well…" James took a moment to consider. "I suppose you have a point, and he has corrupted at least one relic so it isn't exactly unlikely that he would have chosen others as well," he admitted.

"What Relic?" Griphook asked. "And please tell me you haven't already destroyed it."

James chuckled. "Don't panic Griphook, I haven't done anything to it. It's Slytherin's Locket. The initial goal was to narrow down the search by discovering what all he used as shells, then gathering them all together, and waiting for an opportune time to destroy them all."

Griphook nodded. "Good. I may be able to help you with that as well, but it will take time, research, and if it's possible for me to assist, I would expect payment for that as well."

James smirked. "And yet you refuse to let me pay for the process that will save my son's life?" He asked. "Please, let me give you something. It doesn't have to be gold, but I want you to know I'm grateful."

Griphook's brief smile from earlier was revived. "Life… perhaps that is the only thing more valuable than gold, or even virtue. So repay me if you must, by improving lives. By speaking up for Goblins, for Giants, Centaurs, Werewolves, even House Elves. Be the voice that forces change. Even if it takes decades." His eyes crinkled as James smiled. "Change takes time, but it has to start somewhere."

James nodded. "I couldn't agree more." He stood and held out his hand, which Griphook shook happily. "I'll bring Harry over the summer. I don't want to arouse suspicion by having him miss a month or more of school. Let me know when you have discovered whether or not you can offer more assistance?"

Griphook nodded. "Perfectly agreeable. And as always, it has been a pleasure doing business with you."

It didn't take long for Arthur Weasley to wake, and he was nearly overwhelmed by what seemed like all of his children attempting to hug him at once. It took a great deal of reassurance from his end to get his children to believe he was truly healing and that he was in only a moderate amount of pain, thanks to the potions he had been given.

He was just beginning to crave a bit of quiet when the entire room went silent at the soft utterance of a single, "hello," from the doorway.

Arthur, helped into a sitting position earlier, recognized his son easily, even though he hadn't seen Percy in months. "What are you doing here?" Fred asked, sneering at his brother.

Percy wrung his hands, giving away how anxious he truly was, how awkward this felt for him, but he squashed down his rising nerves and cleared his throat. "Same as all of you. Visiting my father in the hospital," he answered softly.

Bill stepped up to Percy, prodding his index finger against his brother's chest. "You don't get to choose convenient times to consider us family," he said. "You turned your back on dad, you have no right to be here."

"Bill," Arthur spoke up. "Would you mind fetching me a healer?" He asked, leveling his eldest son with a scolding gaze. "I think I'm due for another pain potion and I've gone a while without a hot meal."

"Dad-"

"Don't argue with me, son," Arthur warned Bill, then turned to Charlie. "And Charlie, I'm sure your younger siblings could use some rest, I doubt any of you have gotten much of it at my bedside. I'd appreciate it if you took Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George home," he ordered. "You all look thoroughly exhausted."

"I'm not leaving you alone with-" Fred began, only to be cut off by Arthur as well.

"You'll do as I'm telling you or so help me you'll be paying for it once I'm home," Arthur stated firmly. "You'll all give me space to speak with Percy alone," he ordered. "Now."

None of the Weasley children looked comfortable with what Arthur demanded of them, but they didn't argue with him any further. The moment they were finally alone, Percy sighed in relief. "I suppose I should have expected that," he admitted.

Arthur smirked. "Bill wasn't entirely wrong. From their perspective you're the one who turned your back on your family," he said softly.

Percy scoffed. "Oh yes, I confess that I don't believe You-Know-Who has returned on the word of a dramatic fourteen-year-old, and I'm betraying my family. But you divorce Mum and my siblings rally behind you."

Arthur sighed. "I assume that means you think I'm a hypocrite," he commented. "I love your mother, Percy. I'll always love her. But the woman she'd become isn't the Molly Prewett I fell in love with, nor the Molly Weasley I raised a family with," Arthur attempted to explain. "Her faults won out, son, and they became too much to bear. Her overly controlling nature, her harsh, even radical judgements, lack of self awareness, and her toxic pride in herself. Those faults poisoned everything around us, and drove a wedge through our marriage."

Percy sat down at the foot of Arthur's hospital bed. "So you just give up? You don't even try to work through the problems?" He asked.

"Ideally, you do work through the problems," Arthur admitted. "And maybe I was unfair to your mother by not working things out with her. But right now, there are bigger things going on than your mother and I," he stated. "Whether you believe it or not, son."

"This isn't what I came here to talk about," Percy commented and stared down at his shoes, feeling vulnerable and loathing that his father could make him feel eleven again so easily. "I just wanted to see for myself that you're alright, and I have." Percy stood back up to leave. "I won't take up any more of your time," he promised.

"Don't do that," Arthur scolded. "I'm not your boss, Percy. I'm your father. Don't talk to me like a corporate employee."

"What do you want me to say?" Percy asked, his face and arms warming considerably, the irritation at his father's persistence rising higher and higher. "I'm sorry, maybe? Because I am! I'm sorry that I'm the black sheep of our family! I'm sorry I was never good enough! I'm sorry that no matter how hard I worked, no matter what I accomplished, I was always second best! I'm sorry that everything I did to try and make you proud just made you hate me!" With every word that flew out of Percy's mouth he grew louder, more aggressive, tears pooling in his eyes as his face burned with rage and embarrassment. "I'm SORRY!" He shouted, his chest heaving from the strain, though he maintained eye contact with his father, too stubborn to back down.

Arthur met his son's rage with unrelenting calm. "I've always been proud of you, Percy," he stated firmly. "I was bursting with pride the first time you de-gnomed the garden. You had been terrified of the gnomes for years, but you rose to the challenge and faced your fear, simultaneously erasing it."

Percy narrowed his eyes as his breathing began to even out, but his father went on. "You fell off Charlie's broom and wouldn't go near them for years until Ron laughed at you and claimed that even he could out-fly you. I watched you yank Fred's broom out of his hands and fly. You looped around our house several times, shot straight upwards just to prove you weren't scared, even dodged a gnome that George threw in your direction. Then you landed, tossed the broom, and declared that you don't fly because you don't want to, not because you supposedly couldn't," Arthur recounted. "I knew then that you'd never be like the rest of your siblings, and I was so proud, I can't describe how it felt."

Percy took a tentative step closer to his father, who clapped a hand on his shoulder without hesitation. "You aren't afraid to swim against the tide, you won't sacrifice any aspect of yourself just to be liked better, you don't let your brothers pressure you to change, and you don't let fear stand in the way of your goals and responsibilities." Arthur's eyes grew misty. "I was even proud of you when you left. I hated it. I wanted to shake you hard enough to reset your damn brain, but your unrelenting determination to stand your ground, even when your entire family disagrees with you… Of course I was furious, and I still am, but how could I not be proud of you even in that moment?" He asked.

Percy threw his arms around his father, and Arthur embraced his son, never wavering as Percy's shoulder's shook, holding firm through the tears that pelted him like rain. "I've been so angry for so long," Percy told his father. "I was convinced I never mattered to you. That I was never good enough."

Arthur nodded, still holding on to Percy tightly. "You've always been good enough son," Arthur insisted. "And I've never hated you. Even when I'm angry, I still love you."

"I love you too, dad," Percy whimpered and clung to his father, accepting the vulnerability he felt. "Please, please take care of yourself. Please promise me you'll recover and watch out for yourself," he pleaded.

Arthur loosened his hold and nodded. "I promise, son."

Percy stood and sighed. "I… I believe that at the very least you have good reason to believe he's back," Percy stated. "But I need more. I need solid evidence. And I hope you can accept that."

Arthur couldn't help smiling. "I can accept that, even though I think you're being stubborn and foolish. Just make me a promise." Percy nodded. "I won't argue with you waiting for evidence. But don't shut your eyes to avoid that evidence."

"I promise," Percy agreed, and gave his father a small smile before walking out. Arthur didn't object.

James Potter made his way into the room he shared with his wife to find her seated at the foot of their bed. She seemed relaxed, expectant maybe, and her eyes scanned him from head to toe. "You were gone all night," she mentioned.

James nodded. "I was," he confirmed, and shut their door behind him. "Are you angry?" He asked.

Lily crossed her legs and shrugged. "I've already guessed where you were and what you did, but would you care to fill in the blanks?" She asked, gesturing for him to take a seat next to her.

James didn't hesitate to sit down beside his wife. "I helped Remus destroy the snake, which was one of the horcruxes. And I couldn't face watching the clock until Gringotts opened, so I went for a run."

Lily nodded. "So you did connect the dots," she confirmed. "Did Griphook have any advice? Is there anything we can do to save Harry?" She asked.

"There is," James answered and recounted the conversation he'd had earlier with Griphook.

To say that Lily was relieved by the end of the explanation would be severe understatement. "It's a shame the process is so painful, and that we'll have to wait so long, but what matters most is that it's possible. Griphook is a miracle," she commented.

James couldn't help chuckling. "So, what did you tell Harry? Or did he actually stop asking questions for once?" He asked.

"He seemed to honestly accept that he wouldn't be getting any more information," Lily answered. "He's currently catching up on sleep with Hermione."

James smirked. "Oh, I'm sure they're asleep," he taunted.

Lily rolled her eyes and playfully shoved James. "I checked up on them ten minutes ago," she said. "And on that note, I propose we change the subject," she added.

James quirked an eyebrow. "And why is that?" He asked softly.

Lily slid onto his lap and grinned. "Because I don't want to be talking about anything truly negative or off-putting when I interrupt you," she explained, taking hold of his robes.

James returned her grin with his own, his hands moving to her legs on instinct. "Well in that case, the sunrise this morning was a bit dull-" he started, only to be cut off as his wife yanked him into a kiss.

Down the hall, Harry and Hermione were indeed asleep, with Hedwig in her cage, having returned from a night of flying and enjoying her own rest, while Hermione's steadily growing kitten, Shadow, climbed up on their bed and curled up beside his witch's slumbering form, accepting her boyfriend's arm as a pillow.