Sharlen's feet hit the ground on the shore of a giant lake, and a quick look to her right revealed Harry, Ron, and Hermione, soaking wet and badly burned a few meters away. Sharlen broke into a run to meet them, calling out to draw their attention. Harry stood from the ground, Hermione still administering Dittany to heal their wounds, and closed the gap between them. He looked shocked from her sudden appearance but didn't falter. They embraced tightly, Sharlen clinging to him for dear life. "You are crazy," she cried, fistfuls of his hair in her hands as she held fast to him, her legs around his waist as he lifted her.

"I know," he said softly, "I know."

Over his shoulder, not far enough for comfort, Sharlen saw a great, white beast on another bank, drinking heavily from the lake. "Is that—Is that a dragon?!" she gasped, feeling disoriented.

Harry let out a weak laugh. "It is, yes. But it's probably very tired."

Sharlen pulled back from him, incredulous. His exhaustion radiated all around him. "Gringotts?!" The three of them were still digesting what they'd done. Hermione held up the golden Hufflepuff Cup and Sharlen released Harry, nearly sinking to her knees with relief. As it warmed her chest she realized her limbs felt heavy, useless, and shaky as the adrenaline of killing Dolohov was leaving her. "You got one."

As she stared at the little cup, she realized the same odd ringing seemed to be coming from it. She wondered if the others could hear it as well and glanced around suspiciously. When she last helped redouble the enchantments on the locket and the ring she was never that close to one, but this ringing was definitely the same as when she unleashed the Fiendfyre on Morgana's bracelet.

"This may sound insane, so bear with me," she said, looking between the three, "but can you hear them ringing? The Horcruxes?"

Harry nodded, but was alone in doing so. "Moreso now than ever."

"Sharlen, I don't know if you know," Ron said, a look of disgust plain on his face, "but you're covered in blood. Like, covered." Sharlen took a step back and looked down at her ripped dress, the blood staining her skin wherever it showed. The trio's eyes were on her face now too, Harry looking as though he was truly just noticing. She knew McGonagall's transfiguration must have worn off. "What the hell happened to you? Your eye—"

"It's fine," she said hurriedly, embarrassed and unsure how terrible her face must look. She looked at the ground, the shore, anywhere but their eyes. "I'm sure it looks worse than—"

"Who did that to you?" Hermione exclaimed, taking a step closer to examine her eye.

"One of my father's—well, it doesn't matter," she said uncomfortably, chancing a glance up at Harry. "We don't have time for this."

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly.

"I got married," Sharlen said breathlessly, holding up her left hand to show the ring she couldn't remove. "Widowed, actually." She turned to the lake and waded in, scrubbing the blood from her skin and rinsing her face, careful to avoid putting pressure on her tender eye and split lip. The word "widowed" echoed loudly in her head. She walked back out of the water, wringing out her dress as much as possible; the three of them looked positively sick. "It doesn't matter," she assured them as Harry walked up to her again and pulled her chin up to get a better look at her black eye. "I'm fine. I am."

"I told you to be safe," Harry muttered sadly. "I told you to back out if you were in danger."

"Says the boy who just broke into Gringotts and survived," Sharlen said playfully.

Harry closed his eyes and his guilt permeated throughout his aura deeply. After a few moments he stepped away and said to all of them, "We don't have much time."

"What do you mean?" Sharlen asked, but as she did, Harry succumbed to the pain in his scar and fell to the ground, panting and shaking. Without a moment's hesitation, she dropped down beside him and placed both hands to his skin, dissolving her own world into the mind of her father—a vista she'd never before been able to access.

Channeled through Harry, Sharlen was her father, fury and fear burning inside as he demanded the quivering goblin at his feet tell him again what had happened. The stuttering creature told him Harry and two accomplices had broken into the Lestranges vault. Her father screamed at him to say what they took, and, upon hearing it was indeed the small golden cup, a treasured piece of his very soul within it, the Elder Wand flashed green light over and over to slaughter everyone still in the room—Bellatrix and Lucius running to escape—in his frenzied rage.

It could not be true, it could not be possible. Only one had ever known and was sworn to magical secrecy—how could the boy have discovered his secret?

His mind was spinning, trying to trace his Horcruxes, their protection—how anyone, especially Harry, could possibly know about his secret. Dumbledore flashed in his mind furiously. But wouldn't he have felt it if his failsafes were in danger? But he hadn't felt it when the diary was destroyed, though he'd been little more than a ghost at the time. Surely the others were intact, protected.

He considered the diary, the locket, the bracelet, the ring… a wave of calm settled into him, convinced no one could know about the Gaunt house, convinced no one could know of or penetrate the protections in the cave, convinced the ring and the locket, at least, were surely safe. As for Hogwarts, he was sure no one knew that school's depths as he did, that no one was capable of finding the Horcrux that had never left its walls—was sure Bellatrix would die herself before letting anyone take Morgana's bracelet from her wrist...

The cup was lost for now, but Nagini must remain safe, close. But Dumbledore, reaching back through the grave, through the boy… he had to admit to himself that it was possible he knew of his misdeeds at the orphanage, that he could account for his middle name, which would mean the ring and locket were not as secure as he'd assumed… He would need to go back to them, all of them, to be sure of their safety on his own, to redouble their protection. He was sure Hogwarts was safe, but he'd alert Snape that Potter may come looking. He damned his trust in Malfoy and Bellatrix, resolving not to tell Snape why Potter may try to enter the castle.

He gathered Nagini to keep her safe at his side until this problem could be eradicated, and would go to the Gaunt house first, then the lake… The diary, the ring, the bracelet, the cup, his Hogwarts treasure, Nagini... Then Sharlen's face burst into his mind, clear and almost solid in its vividness, and Voldemort faltered, fury surging through him at a staggering level.

Sharlen was shaking with a fear she wanted to be braver than to feel, but as Harry pulled himself out of Voldemort's mind, and her along with him, her hands trembled. She'd never felt a fury that dire shifted to her, and as soon as her father gave the order, her cover would be blown amongst the Death Eaters. She felt, as she sat back on the grass panting lightly along with Harry, that she had taken her position for granted. In her adrenaline from dealing with Dolohov, it had almost slipped her mind that she had sealed her access to that side. Her espionage was finished.

"He knows now," Harry told the ground dutifully. "I just heard his thoughts. He just slaughtered about everyone at Gringotts when he realized we'd taken the cup. He's going to check on the ring and the locket but that only buys us a few hours. He means to keep the snake near him for protection and then he's going to Hogwarts. That's where the last one is." He didn't tell Ron and Hermione that Voldemort clearly thought Sharlen was the one to betray him.

"Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?" Ron asked, scrambling to his feet with the rest of them.

"No, he was focused on warning Snape," Sharlen offered, troubled as she stared at the ground.

"We have to go there anyway," Harry said. "That's where the last one is. Let's find it and kill these. Then there's just the snake."

"Wait!" Hermione shouted as Harry went to unearth the Invisibility Cloak. "We can't just go, we haven't got a plan, we need to—"

"We need to get going," Harry said firmly. "Can you imagine what he'll do when he realizes the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn't safe enough?"

"But how are we going to get in?" she countered.

"We'll go to Hogsmeade and try to work something out."

"I was able to interrogate Dolohov, he says my father is waiting for you to reveal yourself and then he's going to come after you with everything he has," Sharlen said quickly, reaching for Harry. "You can't go there, there's no way you'll get anywhere near that castle undetected."

"You haven't been able to find it and we need to be rid of them," Harry argued. "We have to go."

Ron and Hermione drew out dry clothes for them and Harry while he pulled Sharlen aside. She ran her hand over her ruined clothes, trying to make them drier. Failing at that due to trembling, she abandoned her ripped dress and took an extra pair of jeans Hermione had gratefully. "You got married?" he asked, his expression unreadable as he took the clothes from Hermione and began to change. He didn't take his eyes off of her as they migrated to her black and blue ribs.

"This morning, yes." Sharlen held the ring up close to her face, inspecting it, wearing only the bralet, amber necklace, her boots, and jeans. The skin around and beneath it was shiny and pink from immediate scarring. "I don't think this ring will ever come off. My father did it."

Harry took her hand and her eyes went white with a vision of him and Ron choking down rock cakes in Hagrid's hut. She felt Harry pull her hand up slightly to see her wrist, then turn her to see her neck and spine, just as Snape had.

"And you killed him?" Harry asked, straightening up and dropping her hand.

Sharlen looked up at him and nodded. "Then I found you."

Harry put his hands on her hips and examined her blackened eye seriously. "Baby," he said in barely more than a pained whisper, "you're battered."

Sharlen took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

Harry's eyes searched hers. "I'd like to hear the story, when we have time for it."

Sharlen shook her head. "I don't think you would."

Harry considered this for what felt like minutes but said nothing more. Turning back to Ron and Hermione, they discussed that now that Sharlen had been revealed to the core Death Eaters, she wouldn't need to hide—she reasoned that there was no way word of Dolohov's murder had spread yet, and it was unlikely anyone had even found his body in such a short span of time, especially with so much else going on. Sharlen silently hoped her father had not told the Death Eaters to apprehend her already—she hadn't felt the Dark Mark burn. It was almost safe to say, at least at that moment, that he was more concerned with checking on his Horcruxes than dealing with her betrayal.

Once Hermione had carefully stored the cup Horcrux in her beaded bag and they were ready to go, Sharlen stood squarely before them and frowned. "I want you all to listen to me, seriously," she told them, eyes moving between the three. "If we are separated when we get there, if anything happens, you three stick together and leave me." Harry made the protest but she covered his mouth with her hand. "Listen to me, I have been among the Death Eaters for months. I was trained by the Ministry's best Aurors last summer. My father's inner circle all know me officially now, and there's a good chance they don't know of my desertion. If that's the case, they'll do whatever I say. If that's not the case, I can run, hide, and fight."

She slowly uncovered Harry's mouth, but no rebuttal came. "You have to trust me. If we are separated, stay together and look out for each other. I will be fine, and I will find you again."

The trio agreed and got under the Invisibility Cloak. Grasping hands with Harry, the four of them Disapparated into Hogsmeade.

The second they landed, several things happened all at once: Harry's grip on her hand relaxed, a terrible screaming tore through the barely fallen night—almost causing her to scream herself—and Harry's hand clutched hers very hard again as he told her in a harsh whisper to hide. Sharlen obeyed, ducking out of sight and diving into a nearby storm grate as the door to the Three Broomsticks burst open in a flood of light, loosing a dozen hooded Death Eaters into the street, their wands held high. She cast the Disillusionment Charm and watched her hands disappear.

"Accio Cloak!" one of them shouted, and Sharlen gasped, peering out of her hiding place with hands raised in case the trio was revealed, but the Summoning Charm hadn't worked. Her father must have sent word already that Harry might turn up tonight; had he also told them she might be with him? And how had she not felt the Mark at all? She reasoned, heart sinking, that he had other ways of contacting those he wanted to, remembering his access to her the year before through Snape.

The Death Eaters surged toward the spot where she'd left them, but found nothing. With bated breath, Sharlen frantically searched, eye-level with the ground, and saw the small hint of a foot backing up to hide in the darkness.

"What about Dementors?" one of them called. Sharlen froze, horrified, as the man said they'd have an easy time finding them.

"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hand but his—" came the argument, wands still searching. Two men walked past her hiding place and she silently Stunned them, biting her lower lip to keep a gasp from escaping as she hoisted herself back out to the street, her bruised side and spine protesting sharply. She hid the Death Eaters quickly with the Disillusionment Charm and hurried around to the nearest corner. She had no idea where the trio was, but if she could just keep moving toward where she last saw them...

"—an' Dementors won't kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter's life, not his soul. He'll be easier to kill if he's been Kissed first!"

The dread of this truth came hard and fast, right before the cold engulfed her. Craning her neck, fearing her breath was coming in echoing, deafening shouts, she willed Harry and the others to Apparate away rather than try and produce a Patronus. Everyone knew Harry's was a stag, and it would give them away immediately.

Following the growing shadows as the cold swept closer, thicker, Sharlen hurried along the brick buildings, peering around at every instance to be sure of the Death Eaters placement, but she saw none. Her breathing showing in bursts of cloud despite her invisibility, a horrified Sharlen finally saw a swarm of at least ten dementors gliding noiselessly towards her. She quickened her pace, but realized, with one gleaming idea clinging to the hope the dementors sought to take, that she had an advantage. Diving down a separate path, Sharlen thought proudly Expecto Patronum!, allowing the stag to burst from her and charge the nearest dementors, in the opposite direction from where Harry, Ron, and Hermione must be.

"There!" came a triumphant shout, "A stag Patronus! He's here!"

Throwing herself past two Death Eaters converging on the spot where she'd cast the Patronus, Sharlen hurried back along her original path. She shot a hand forward and her stag lead the way through the dementors now ahead of her.

"This way!" the men shouted in chaos.

"No, here!" came a new voice that was further away. "It's him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus!"

"We've already seen it!"

Chest falling and Patronus vanishing, she knew Harry must have cast his as well. She ran full-speed toward the source of the sound, veering left in the direction she thought they'd gone, and saw, down a particularly narrow side street, a door open, with a shop owner waiting a moment before slamming his door shut and remaining outside. Rushing forward as she removed the Disillusionment Charm, she found herself between the door and the incoming Death Eaters, mind racing. The man glared at her pointedly, specifically the Dark Mark on her arm, as the Death Eaters caught up with them. She hoped furiously that her father hadn't yet communicated her abandonment, but she'd risk it.

The shop owner's wand was upon her, and she held her right hand up at her hip to show she meant no harm. "Take it easy," she said, turning halfway from him to face the shouting Death Eaters at her back.

"Miss Down?" came the voice of the closest man, who still wore a hood but sounded familiar to her. "What are you—you shouldn't be—"

"My father stationed me here in light of recent events you may not be privvy to," she said with authoritative calm. "Now I'm taking care of this curfew-breaker."

"Curfew my ear," the barman roared.

"You'll lower your wand from her if you don't have a death wish," the hooded man said threateningly, his own wand raised. "You've no idea who you're speaking to."

"I'll deal with him," Sharlen announced loudly, holding up her hands to stop them. She put on her best uncaring, authoritative face and stood tall. The man behind her scoffed furiously.

"A child, deal with me… I'll put out my cat if I want to, damn your curfew!" he said.

"Potter's here, we saw his Patronus—" one of the Death Eaters shouted, pointing to the man. She recognized him now as Rowle.

"It was mine," she said calmly, interrupting whatever the man behind her had been about to shout, her hands still up. The Death Eaters shifted curiously, glancing around to each other. She held her right hand out closer to the Death Eaters and thought of Mrs. Weasley's letter, thinking Expecto Patronum again as clearly as possible; with a warm, blue light from her right palm, her stag appeared again, walking close to her side.

"But Potter's Patronus—" the men began to protest uneasily.

"You've just seen her produce it, or is the Potter boy the only one in the world with claim to that Patronus?" the man snarled.

"Well someone was out in the street against regulations," protested a second Death Eater, stepping forward angrily. "You'd have us believe it was you?"

"So what if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door?" the barman snarled. Sharlen put a hand to her temple, feeling overwhelmed by the energy of the men around her, the tension everyone felt in the wake of the dementors. The group continued to threaten each other back and forth. "I hope for your sakes you haven't pressed your little Dark Marks and summoned him. You-Know-Who will not want to be summoned over my cat, now will he?"

"Are you threatening—?"

"Enough," Sharlen said firmly, reasserting herself between the man and the Death Eaters. "I already told you, I have business here from my father. I said I'll deal with him," she said, holding a hand to Rowle's chest as he stepped forward. "You're to go back to your stations until you're needed." She glared at him and he motioned for the men to fall back the way they came.

Sharlen turned to the man in the doorway of what appeared to be the back of the Hog's Head Inn but he stopped her in her tracks. Her Patronus vanished once more.

"I don't know who you think you are but you're not getting into my pub and that's the end of it," he growled, but she heard Hermione call from inside that she was with them and swept past him anyway. He slammed the door behind them with a growl.

Casting a quick glance around the dark lower level of the pub, she followed where Hermione's voice had come, hurrying up the stairs to find them shutting the shade firmly and abandoning the Cloak. Sharlen slumped against the wall gratefully, her heart pounding. "I am not cut out for spy work," she sighed, trying to steady her breathing. Her nerves were shot and she was feeling the exhaustion from lack of sleep.

"You're scarily good at that, you know?" Ron added breathily, falling into a chair beside Hermione. "A little too good, maybe."

"Welcome to the past year of my life," she said joylessly.

Harry knelt before her, green eyes boring into hers. "A stag?"

She smiled weakly. "Bloody traitor, magic, don't you think?" Harry kissed her forehead and she reached up to squeeze his wrist. "Why didn't you Disapparate?"

"We tried," he said, "We couldn't get through."

The barman entered the room. "You bloody fools, what were you thinking coming here?" he demanded gruffly, looking between them. "And with one of them, no less?"

Sharlen stood and turned away, arms around herself as Harry thanked the man for saving their lives. She was worried they were wasting time, and marveled over her luck that the Death Eaters, for what she was sure was the last time, still revered her. Harry was drawing parallels about the barman, and recognized him as Aberforth Dumbledore as Sharlen turned back around.

Aberforth, not agreeing or disagreeing with Harry's identification, bent to light the fire in the grate. Harry asked him about a mirror, and soon after, he left to get food for the group. When he returned with mead, bread, and cheese, the trio descended upon it ravenously. Sharlen hung back against the fire, too exhausted to eat, her nerves shot. She began to shake involuntarily as the adrenaline left her once again, and fished in her black bag for her potion.

Unstoppering the flask, she frowned into the opening; it was extremely low, maybe only another day or so left. Reaching her arm into the bag up to her shoulder, she sighed, alerting Harry's attention.

"What's wrong?"

"It's okay, my potion is low," she muttered, standing. "I was stupid, to leave the rest behind. My stores are in Dolohov's flat." She met Hermione's eyes as her eyebrows raised. "It's okay, I can get more. I have a brewer. We have more important things to deal with."

"Speaking of which, we need to get you lot out of here," came Aberforth. "Can't be done at night, obviously, you've seen what happens when that Caterwauling Charm gets set off. You'll stay until daybreak, then you can take off on foot, into the mountains."

"We're not leaving," Harry told him, standing. "We need to get into Hogwarts."

Aberforth's aura, full of purpose despite his outward irritation with the group, faltered with a deep, brownish yellow of stress. "Don't be stupid, boy."

Harry didn't miss a step, his resolution clear. "We've got to. We don't have much time. Dumbledore—I mean, your brother—wanted us—"

"My brother wanted a lot of things, and a lot of people often got hurt while he was pursuing them," Aberforth rumbled. "You and your friends need to get away from this school and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes. He's gone where none of this can hurt him, and you owe him nothing."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "He… left me a job." Sharlen took his hand and squeezed lightly, watching Aberforth warily as she opened her mind past the vision elicited by Harry's touch. He was extremely emotional, talking about Dumbledore. Sharlen remained silent, not having known anything about Dumbledore as a person, let alone that he'd had a sibling.

"Don't understand, do I?" Aberforth said. "You think you knew Albus better than I did? And this job he left you—Pleasant? Easy job? The sort of role you'd task an unqualified wizard to be able to accomplish alone?"

While Ron gave a bitter laugh and Hermione remained silent, too strained and exhausted to add anything, Sharlen narrowed her eyes at the man. Her patience was lacking. "What's right isn't always easy. That hardly matters," she told him darkly.

Aberforth ignored her, keen only to respond to Harry, who calmly said he had to complete this task. "Got to? Got to?" Aberforth spat roughly. "He's dead, boy! Let it go before you follow him. Save yourself!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Sharlen could see Harry was overwhelmed; he'd been in hiding, free from these kinds of inquiries, for so many months. A spark of red came into his aura. "But you're fighting too, you're in the Order—"

"The Order of the Phoenix's finished," Aberforth interrupted. "You-Know-Who's won, it's over. Anyone who's pretending otherwise is a fool." He stared angrily at Sharlen's Dark Mark. "It'll never be safe for you here, Potter, he wants you too badly. Best take these two with you," he added, gesturing to Ron and Hermione, "seeing as they'll be in danger the rest of their lives for helping you."

Harry argued again that he couldn't leave, that he had to see this through, and Aberforth kept interrupting. Finally, he asked if Dumbledore had given Harry everything he needed to know, if he was honest. Harry glanced at Sharlen, wanting to say yes, but unable to form the word.

"He learned secrecy and lies at my mother's knee," Aberforth grumbled, "and Albus was a natural."

"Mr. Dumbledore?" Hermione said timidly, "Is, is that your sister? Ariana?" Sharlen followed her eyes to the painting of a young girl over the mantelpiece, the only piece of art or photography in the room.

"It is," he answered gruffly. "Been reading Rita Skeeter, have you?"

Hermione's embarrassment radiated through her, and Harry was extremely conflicted. Sharlen watched his aura as it churned; he was trying to bury the dark green of resentment and a lack of understanding with the royal blue of purpose, but was clearly struggling. Hermione was insisting Dumbledore had cared very much for Harry, and pressed Aberforth when he said that so many people Dumbledore cared for had been hurt.

"That's a really serious thing to say!" she pressed. "Are you talking about your sister?"

Aberforth's deep red anger murmured close to him and then grew, as though gas had been thrown on a flame as he burst into the story of his sister's death. Sharlen listened closely, feeling extremely out of place, all of this new to her. Had the trio been mulling over Dumbledore's past this entire time, wondering if they could trust the man they knew, if he had been as selfish as this man seemed to outline? Hearing of the Muggles' attack on Ariana and the madness it caused her, Sharlen swallowed hard, feeling ill. She found she couldn't look at Aberforth's aura any longer as he talked, or she might cry.

The more he talked past his mother's death at Ariana's accidental hand, the more bitter he became, and the harder Harry's grip on her hand grew. At the mention of Grindelwald entering the picture and Albus's friendship with him, their plotting for the greater good and the Hallows, Sharlen closed her mind and focused on the vision from Harry, turning her face to the ground so Aberforth would not be derailed by her eyes going white.

As he bitterly, angrily described Grindelwald's eagerness to put the Muggles in their place so Ariana wouldn't need to be hidden, she watched Harry running from Snatchers before being taken to Malfoy manor, watched Hermione alter his face with a Stinging Jinx as they were apprehended just as Aberforth described the fight that broke out between himself, his brother, and Grindelwald. The vision changed to Dumbledore begging Harry to kill him as he forced the potion guarding what was supposed to be the locket Horcrux in the cave nearly a year ago, Dumbledore's cries and pleading reverberating almost too loudly for the story to be heard. But she had to release her hand from Harry's as Aberforth described, voice breaking at the end, how one of them accidently killed Ariana in their duel. Her hand hurt from Harry's grip, and she saw revulsion and regret painting his aura.

"I'm so… so sorry," Hermione whispered as Aberforth fell into the nearest chair.

"Gone," he croaked. "Gone forever. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Grindelwald vanished, already having a record to run from, but my brother was free of our sister's burden, free to become the greatest wizard of the—"

"He was never free," Harry and Sharlen chorused together darkly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth, leaning forward.

"Never," said Harry.

"The night he died, he drank a potion," Sharlen told the man, swallowing hard. "A potion that drove him out of his mind."

"He started screaming," Harry took over, "pleading with someone who wasn't there. 'Don't hurt them, please… hurt me instead.'"

"'Kill me,'" Sharlen whispered.

She could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes on her and Harry and realized it was possible he had spared them those details when he told them of the cave.

"He thought he was back with you, watching Grindelwald hurting you and Ariana. I know he did," Harry continued. "If you had seen him that night, you wouldn't say he was free."

Aberforth was silent for some time, twisting his hands in thought, and finally asked how Harry could be sure he wasn't dispensable to Dumbledore, just as their sister had been. At that, Sharlen had to walk out, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room, too lightheaded to remain any longer. She swept from the room and slid down the wall around the corner, head on her knees. Voices raised in anger for several minutes before silence fell, and she heard Harry say again that they had to get into the castle.

Standing weakly, muscles protesting viciously, she peered back into the room as Aberforth told the portrait of Ariana, "You know what to do." To Sharlen's surprise, the girl walked straight back further into the portrait and was swallowed up by darkness.

"There's only one way into the school now, all the usual tunnels have been closed," Aberforth explained, looking very tired. "The place has never been so heavily guarded, between the patrols and dementors… It escapes me what you think you can accomplish inside with Snape at the helm and the Carrows doing his bidding, but you say you're prepared to die."

"That's why I'm here," Sharlen said, raising the Dark Mark for him to see. He said nothing, prejudice running deep.

"But what…?" Hermione said, squinting at Ariana's portrait. A white dot had appeared in the "distance" of the tunnel painted behind where the girl once stood, growing larger as she reappeared and came to fill her frame again. But it looked as if someone was following her, walking poorly but quickly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's mouths fell open to see it was Neville, badly hurt and hair long.

Sharlen winced to see him and took a step back nervously, realizing, as the portrait swung forward to reveal the tunnel through which Neville leapt out roaring with delight, that her being with the trio would likely only complicate their mission.

"I knew you'd come Harry! I knew it!" Neville exclaimed as he hugged him, moving to hug Ron and Hermione as well.

"But Neville, what—"

He brushed them off when they inquired as to his injuries, saying Seamus was worse and warning Aberforth that a few more people would be coming into the pub.

"There's a Caterwauling Charm on the whole village, boy, are you mad—few more—"

"That's why they'll be Apparating straight into the bar. Just send them through the tunnel when they get here, will you?" Neville instructed good-naturedly. As he gestured Hermione toward the tunnel, he spotted Sharlen against the far wall and stopped moving.

He surveyed her quietly, and Harry looked around to her as well, then back to Neville, as if ready to explain. Sharlen looked at him sadly, holding her arms behind her back. "You're here," he said quietly.

"I am."

"With them," he added.

"You… you look worse, Neville," she said with a sigh. "Is that my fault?"

He shook his head.

"Neville, she's been helping us this whole time," Hermione explained. "We had it all wrong."

"No. I understand now." He gestured Sharlen forward. "Come on, we've got to go." Neville helped Hermione onto the mantel place and into the tunnel, followed by Ron and himself. Harry thanked Aberforth for saving their lives twice before helping Sharlen up into the tunnel as well.

"Harry, no," Sharlen protested, holding back. She watched Neville wearily. "I should find another way in. Really, I'll go back and fly in or…"

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, hold on her hand tightening. "Of course you're coming with me."

"You don't want to waste time explaining to anyone why I'm with you. They all hate me."

Harry took her free hand and held both up to his mouth, peering at her closely over their knuckles. "Listen to me," he said, voice calm and even, "We'll make them see. And someday soon, everyone will know all you've done for them. But tonight, you're not leaving my side." Over his shoulder, Neville nodded firmly at her.

"Once they see you with these three," Neville said, beaming, "it'll be fine!"

Sharlen winced and gasped at the sudden burning on her forearm, flinching hard away from Harry. The Dark Mark burned viciously dark, every line raised in her flesh as her arm shook violently. She stared at it hatefully before shaking her head and climbing into the portrait. "He's calling," she told the others.

The portrait closed behind them as they moved through the smooth stone steps of the passage, lit by bronze lamps. Sharlen kept her arms around herself, nervous about what would await on the other side as the others talked excitedly about what happened at Gringotts. Her arm burned as if she were holding it to a hot pan, setting her teeth to chatter. "It's everywhere, everyone's talking about it. Terry Boot got beaten up by a Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!" Neville was explaining.

"Yeah, it's true," said Harry.

"How can everyone already know about that?" Sharlen asked, feeling dizzy. "Wasn't that… just this morning?"

But Neville was laughing gleefully as though he hadn't heard her. "What did you do with the dragon?"

"Released it into the wild," Ron answered, nudging Hermione. "Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet."

"Don't exaggerate, Ron—"

Neville went on to explain, at the trio's insistence, the state of Hogwarts as they walked along the passage. He described the new regime of torture as punishment in detail Sharlen, sadly, had no problem believing. He talked about Luna and how the golden coins from Dumbledore's Army had come in handy communicating with each other in secret, and Sharlen felt more and more alone, separate, as they talked on. Nothing she'd experienced in the past year seemed important, somehow. She couldn't reconcile the feeling of "other" radiating through her as the pain in her arm dulled to an ache.

Then they opened the passage door on the other end, and Sharlen was nearly knocked backward with the swell of triumphant emotions, shouts, and love pouring all around them as the dozens of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs that had taken refuge in the Room of Requirement surrounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She hurriedly backed up against the door to the passage, focusing on her breathing and willing herself not to pass out. The anxiety of the situation, all the time they'd wasted since the vision of her father at Gringotts, tore at her heart.

As the trio was hugged, pat on the back, and ruffled in the roars of the students, Neville and Seamus excitedly explained the room was the perfect hideout once they realized you have to ask for exactly what you need from it. One of the Hufflepuffs asked what the trio had been doing and asked if Gringotts had really happened, and Harry turned around to reach for Sharlen, frowning, as Seamus asked what they'd been looking for.

"Harry—" she said, reaching for him as he gripped his scar and closed his eyes. Through him she was once again in the mind of her father, and she was furious; in the ruined stone shack, an exhumed golden box lay open and empty at the floor in the destroyed floorboards, and a scream of fury erupted from her, shrouded in dismay and fear.

Ron helped steady Harry as he leaned on Sharlen against the back wall, pulling himself out of Voldemort's mind, her panting along with him as her vision returned. As the room came back into view, she realized everyone inhabiting the Room of Requirement had just become aware she was there, and were glaring at her. She folded herself further against the stone wall behind Harry, his right hand in both of hers, unsure why it was she could stand tall amongst Death Eaters but felt exhausting fear before Dumbledore's Army. A vision of Harry reading a Stunning lecture for the DA took her sight. They all looked so much older now.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville asked. "Want to sit down? You're tired, I expect—"

"What's she doing here?" Seamus asked angrily, wand out. "How'd she sneak in?"

"She's with us," Ron told him firmly.

"She's been helping us the entire time, everyone, really," Hermione told them, holding her hands up. "Really, we had it all wrong. She has been helping us."

"Harry, there's no time," she whispered to him, and he squeezed her hands. The angry eyes on her Dark Mark nearly made it burn again.

"She's been trying to get in here all year," came Michael Corner. "We wouldn't let her in."

"Wish you had," Ron said, irritated, "Would've saved us the trouble."

"They couldn't believe me, Ron," Sharlen told him, putting a hand on his arm. "It's okay. You can't play both sides well in a war without someone thinking poorly of you."

"You're too bloody kind, don't you think?" Ron muttered.

"We need to hurry," Harry told everyone, and their expressions told him they understood. "Sharlen is right, we're running out of time."

"What's the plan, Harry?" Seamus asked, changing his tune.

"Well," Harry said, struggling with wording as well as the blinding pain in his scar, "There's something we—Ron, Hermione, Sharlen, and I—need to do, and then we'll leave."

The silence following this statement was palpable. "What do you mean 'leave'?" Neville asked.

"There's something important we have to do, we haven't come to stay—"

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you."

While the members of Dumbledore's Army were insisting they would help if it had something to do with fighting Voldemort, Harry struggled to organize his thoughts on why they couldn't. Sharlen stepped before him, releasing his hand as the room came back into view. "Dumbledore left the three of them a job," she told them. "They're not supposed to get anyone else involved, and it's urgent."

"Then why are you involved?" Lavender Brown asked.

In her exhaustion, her patience had long run out. "Have you bloody forgotten who I am?"

"Sharlen," Hermione pleaded in a harsh whisper.

"But we're Dumbledore's Army, we've been fighting all year, keeping it together," Neville said. "Everyone in this room has been fighting, been driven in here by the Carrows hunting them down. They've all proven they're loyal to Dumbledore, and to you, Harry."

"Look—" Harry began, but Sharlen let out a gasp and jumped aside as the door behind them opened to reveal Luna and Dean arriving through the tunnel. Not long after, none other than Ginny, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan came through, as well as Cho Chang. Harry's mouth fell open, his aura soaring brightly at the sight of Ginny. Sharlen breathed steadily as Ginny locked eyes with her; while the others around Harry kept pestering him about what the plan was, the girls had an unspoken agreement, where Ginny nodded to acknowledge that if Sharlen was beside Harry, whom she was just happy to see at all, then it must mean she'd been telling the truth all along. But they were still rivals.

"The anguish in Harry's aura is going to collapse on itself," Sharlen told Hermione, brow furrowed as she watched him flounder. "This wasn't the best idea."

"What else could we do?" she said with a sigh, thinking hard.

"You've got to stop this!" Harry shouted at Neville. "What did you call them all back for? This is insane—"

"We're fighting, right?" Dean said, taking out his own fake Galleon. He and Seamus talked briefly about how he didn't have a wand, and Sharlen reached into her black bag to offer Dolohov's to him.

"I hope it works for you," she told him. Dean ruffled her hair with a grin, twirling the wand in his fingers.

Ron turned to Harry.

"Why can't they help?" he asked.

"What—"

"They need to stay safe!" Sharlen hissed. "Harry's right, this is madness!"

"There is no safe," Ron said quietly to the three of them. "Look, we need to find it fast and we don't have to tell them it's a Horcrux."

"I think Ron's right, you two," Hermione said quietly. "We don't even know what we're looking for, we could use all the help we can get." She put a hand on Harry's shoulder and told him, "You don't need to do everything alone, Harry."

Sharlen put her forehead to Harry's, which helped the pain in his scar to halve so he could think. His hands squeezed her arms gratefully while her senses filled with one of his many Quidditch matches. "Alright," he finally said, quietly to the three of them. Then he stood back and addressed the crowd, which silenced at his word.

"There's something we need to find," he said. "Something that will… help us defeat You-Know-Who. We don't know where it is, but it's in the castle somewhere. We believe it might have belonged to Ravenclaw—something small and valuable… Has anyone heard of anything like that? Maybe with an eagle on it?"

The small group of Ravenclaws looked at each other thoughtfully, and Luna brought up Ravenclaw's lost diadem.

"Yes, but Luna," Cho said bracingly, a hand on her shoulder, "it's lost. No one's seen it for centuries."

Crestfallen, Harry looked at the ground to think.

"Well…" Sharlen said, looking between the two Ravenclaws, "Well, does anyone know what it looks like?"

Harry perked up and looked around at her. "What are you thinking?" he asked seriously.

"Well if no other item related to Ravenclaw comes to mind for anyone, then this might be it," she reasoned. "Merope might know, we should let her out—Oh, but I've just taken my potion… Hermione is there a way…?"

"I think it's you we need tonight, Sharlen," Hermione said.

"There's a likeness of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing the diadem in Ravenclaw Tower," Cho told Harry, stepping forward. "I can bring you there to see it."

"Luna will bring Harry, won't you Luna?" Ginny said, clearing her throat at how obvious Cho was, being just as obvious as a result. The Ravenclaw's aura burned an angry red and Sharlen couldn't help but roll her eyes at both of them, though Luna agreed at once and made to move toward the exit of the room through the bodies.

"Right. Sharlen, come with me," Harry said, putting a hand on her back where her bralet covered her skin. Ginny all but scowled. "I'm going to look at this statue to at least see what this diadem looks like," he told Ron and Hermione. "For now, stay here and keep everyone safe." Harry grabbed Sharlen's hand and they hurried off with Luna to leave the room, just as the Creevy brothers burst in, panting.

"HARRY!" they screamed, nearly knocking him over.

"Hey guys, I've got to—"

"Harry," Collin said, more seriously. The secret entrance to the tunnel opened again to reveal Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Kingsley. Sharlen removed herself from Harry's side, not taking care to avoid contact with the people around them as she hurried up to meet them. Failing due to all her exposed skin, flashes of visions too fast and diverse to take her attention blinded her off and on like a strobe, but she was determined to see them. She threw herself at Lupin, lifted off her feet in a hug before moving to Kingsley. When Mrs. Weasley was done fretting over Ron and scolding Fred and George for bringing Ginny, she turned and wrapped Sharlen in a tight hug as well.

"I'm so happy to see you," she told the mother, feeling tears stinging her throat.

"Oh my dear, this is terrible," she stressed over Sharlen's eye. Lupin and Kingsley were also saying their piece about her injuries.

"Who was it?" Kingsley demanded deeply, holding her jaw to get a better look at her eye.

"It doesn't matter, he's dead—"

Collin said louder, "Harry, please—"

"What is it, Collin?" Harry asked, shaking his head from the distractions.

"Snape knows, he knows you're here," he said, not loudly, but the room had gone dead quiet anyway. Sharlen's shoulders fell; they had wasted too much time. "He's called all the houses to the Great Hall. We have to go."

Sharlen made her way back to Harry along with Ron and Hermione. For a second he said nothing while his aura smouldered angrily. "Who has robes for me?" he asked the room.

"What's your plan?" Sharlen muttered.

"It's time Hogwarts was rid of him. For good."

Neville whooped his approval loudly across the room.